


Crossing Lines

by servantofclio



Series: Crossing Lines [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are lines you're not supposed to cross: between commander and subordinate, between one species and another. Other lines are just hard to cross: from friend to lover, from casual to serious. Relationships aren't always easy, especially when you're all alien to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to my story "Belonging." While writing that story, I got interested in what was happening between the two men, which got complicated fairly quickly. The first few chapters overlap chronologically with the narrative in "Belonging."
> 
> This story has benefited throughout from Smehur's very kind and helpful critique.

Over the years, Shepard had woken up in a lot of ways, next to a lot of different people. On this day, as he slowly came to consciousness, he became aware of two things. First: he’d clearly had too much to drink the night before. Second: he was currently nestled next to somebody’s very warm body. He cracked one eye open.

Huh. Next to Garrus’s very warm body. That was unexpected. He searched his memory. There was something about hands running over his bare back--well, that was clearly a dream. Right, they’d been on Illium, and he and Jacob had helped Miranda get her sister safely stowed away. And then he’d met up with Garrus and Tali at Eternity, and-- where was Tali, anyway? He propped himself up on his elbows so he could look around. The motion made his head swim. Well. Wherever Tali was, she wasn’t here. His memories seemed to blur partway through the evening. Obviously they’d made their way back to the Normandy, but everything after that was gone. Probably they’d just staggered up here and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Shepard flopped back onto the bed and regarded Garrus. Deeply asleep, he looked far more relaxed than Shepard had seen him--well, ever, probably--and with the injured side of his face buried in the pillows, he looked more like Shepard remembered him. Not just less tense, but less... worn down. And it turned out that visor wasn’t surgically attached after all, because he sure wasn’t wearing it now. His mandible twitched a little as he slept, and he was... snoring? or purring? Whatever you called it, he was making a quiet rumbling noise in his chest. It was… disarming, soothing in the quiet room. Shepard smiled.

It had been good to see Garrus kick back a little; although he’d barely missed a beat after major surgery, he’d been a little grim since then, all coiled intensity. Not that Shepard blamed him, after the mess on Omega, but it was good to see signs of a lighter mood, some returning humor. Shepard thought he had Tali to thank for that. It was good to have her back. 

It was strange, too, to see Garrus out of armor. Shepard had spotted the familiar battered blue pieces in a pile on the other side of the room. You didn’t realize how much bulk turian armor added, especially to the upper body, until you saw one without: the collar ridge smaller, the neck more exposed, the shoulders less heavy. Out of armor, the ridges and angles of turian physiology were more obvious, but so was the element of vulnerability: it came home that those plates were not real armor after all, that they flexed and shifted with breath and movement, that softer hide surrounded the harder edges. 

Shepard had seen a fully naked turian in the flesh just once. A woman, slim and elegant like a blade, and a hell of a dancer. He’d had an adventurous enough youth, but hadn’t really considered turians as sexually attractive, until he’d seen her. From his vantage at the bar, his jaw had dropped at the things she could do with her hips and slender limbs, and when the music stopped, he’d made an overture. Which was accepted, fortunately for him. It had been a memorable and very pleasant night, and the novelty of exploring what a turian body really looked like, and felt like, had been part of the considerable pleasure. He’d gotten the assignment to the Normandy not long after that, and since then there hadn’t been much opportunity for even casual liaisons. The experience had opened his eyes, though, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from looking appraisingly at the turians he’d encountered. Nihlus Kryik, for one, had been very striking, and Garrus...

Garrus sighed and shifted in his sleep, bringing Shepard’s attention back to the present, a little flushed from the memory. He still looked very peaceful. He was taller and broader than that woman had been, more muscular. Shepard’s palms itched with a sudden desire to touch, to run his hand from shoulder to waist to angular hip, exploring his texture. Totally inappropriate between friends, and he knew enough to know it would be a truly shameless come-on for a turian. _Not helpful_ , he informed his body. _Couldn’t you just stick with the headache?_ He couldn’t quite resist the urge completely, but settled for a light pat on Garrus’s shoulder before rolling himself out of bed. 

All right, he told himself, agenda for the day: hangover remedy, shower to fix the other problem, try to conduct himself the rest of the day like a responsible grown-up who hadn’t been out drinking with friends half the night.

As it turned out, he was still mixing up the hangover remedy when Garrus stirred.

#

Garrus muddled his way through a tangle of undeniably erotic dreams. He could not make out the other’s face, but the hands were very busy, very welcome, finding all his most sensitive places. It had been a long time, he thought, and that broke the spell, the dream shattering around him as he woke in an unfamiliar bed. With an ache in his groin, a splitting headache, and a weird taste in his mouth. He groaned and rolled over, trying to identify his location.

“Hey,” called a familiar voice from across the room. Shepard. “Morning, sunshine. I just got up myself. You want some of what I’m having?”

Garrus sat up. Shepard was mixing up some sort of odd-colored concoction. “What is that?”

“Hangover remedy. Doctor Shepard’s best. I haven’t had to use this in a while.”

Garrus regarded it suspiciously. “And that’s dextro-safe?”

Shepard looked at the glass for a moment. “I don’t think there’s any protein in there.”

Considering the state of his head, Garrus decided it was worth the risk. “Sure, I’ll have some.”

Shepard brought him a glass and sipped his own with a grimace. Garrus sniffed the beverage, and took a drink. “It tastes awful.”

“All the best hangover cures do,” said Shepard, settling himself on the bed.

They sat on the bed in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. Shepard had folded his legs under him in a way that made Garrus’s knees twinge just to look at. The human was only wearing some short trousers, leaving his torso and most of his legs bare. He had hair, here and there, thickest on his chest, thinner on his limbs. All the exposed skin was a little distracting. Garrus wondered idly what it felt like. He’d touched Shepard before, of course, but usually through clothing or armor, always in the course of doing something else. He wasn’t sure he’d seen Shepard this undressed before, and the thought made him feel a little warm. It looked as though it ought to be cold, but Shepard didn’t seem disturbed. Trying to focus on something else, he said, “Wasn’t Tali with us when we came up here?”

“Was she? I thought she ought to be here. She wasn’t here when I woke up, though, just us. You make a pretty good bedwarmer, I have to say.”

Garrus blinked as his translator suggested two possibilities, one of them fairly lewd, and decided Shepard must have meant the innocuous one. “Uh… thanks? I suppose I do have a higher body temperature.” The hangover remedy seemed to be working, at least.

Shepard smiled. “That must be it. Did you sleep all right?”

“Reasonably well.” He scratched absently at the bandage, before reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to. “You?”

Shepard shrugged. “Better than usual. Wouldn’t want to get plastered every night to achieve that, though. No bad dreams, at least. I hope yours were pleasant.”

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. Remembering the dream--growing hazy now--made his nerves thrum. “Yeah, very pleasant,” he admitted, realizing too late that his voice had dropped an octave, and that was a signal even humans could pick up on.

“Oh, _that_ kind of dream?” Shepard’s smile seemed off somehow, a little... twisted, or hesitant somehow. He paused before continuing. “Me too, funnily enough.”

His eyes traveling down, Garrus noticed the highly visible bulge tenting Shepard’s shorts. Mandibles flaring in embarrassment, he stood up hastily. “I’m sorry, Shepard, I didn’t realize… I can go…”

“Sorry for what?” Shepard blurted. “That I find you attractive? You haven’t done anything to apologize for.” 

Garrus blinked. “You—what?”

Shepard opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you aren’t a particularly good-looking turian specimen? You could have fooled me.”

“Well, I—” _used to be_ , his brain supplied, and the healing wounds on his right side chose that moment to throb, as if he were going to forget. “—didn’t realize you were interested in turians,” he said instead.

“I’m interested in a lot of things. ” Shepard sighed. “Look, Garrus, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and you can certainly leave if you want to. But you don’t have to. Apparently I just woke up horny today. It’ll pass.”

Slowly Garrus sat down again. “Are you—” he broke off, unsure of the proper protocol here.

“Am I what?”

Garrus sighed. “I don’t know how humans do… this sort of thing. Are you—were you—saying you’re interested in me? Personally?”

Both of Shepard’s eyebrows shot up. “What would you say if I were?” For once, his voice was carefully neutral.

They looked at each other. Shepard’s eyes were a little wide, and fixed on his. Garrus realized that he was trembling, just slightly. He should be making a polite refusal and heading out the door. If someone had proposed this scenario to him two years ago, he would have been appalled. A day ago, he would have laughed. So why wasn’t he laughing, or running, now? “This is probably a bad idea,” he said.

“It probably is,” Shepard agreed. “The Alliance has a strict policy against fraternization between commander and subordinate.”

Garrus remembered Joker mentioning such regs, while teasing Williams. “We’re not Alliance any more,” he said.

“No. We’re not. And--” Shepard stopped, and shook his head.

“And what?”

“I’d like to think we’re friends, at least,” said Shepard. “Not just commander and subordinate. There aren’t a lot of people in the galaxy I really trust, Garrus.”

He’d known that was true, surely, but he felt oddly honored nonetheless. “I think you’re about the best friend I’ve got, Shepard. You and maybe Tali,” he added. 

“Right,” said Shepard, and hesitated. In the silence, Garrus felt a tension running between them. Shepard seemed to feel something, too, shifting awkwardly in place, and when his knee accidentally brushed against Garrus’s hip, they both jumped as if they’d been shocked. Shepard cleared his throat. “Look, Garrus. I don’t want to put any pressure on you at all. I’m interested, yeah, but I want us to stay friends, most of all. So if you’re not, you can walk out right now, we’re still friends, I won’t be offended at all, and I won’t bring it up again.”

Garrus’s heart pounded, feeling almost painfully loud. Shepard left it to him, his choice; Shepard wanted him, for some reason, and he wanted-- it had never even occurred to him _to_ want-- he was right the first time, there were about a dozen reasons this was a bad idea, but-- He gave up thinking, and acted on impulse: reached out, put one hand on Shepard’s bare chest, slid it downwards, testing out the feel of that skin (smooth, pliant, with the firmness of muscle beneath, and the slight texture of hair...)


	2. Chapter 2

Shepard gasped. He had fully expected Garrus to leave, had been expecting it for several minutes now. At best, he’d thought, they’d conclude that they should stick with the status quo, and try to move on to another subject. But instead he _touched_ , and, maybe by accident, rubbed his hand over Shepard’s nipple, sending a sharp stab of arousal arcing through him. And the way he looked at Shepard, crystal blue eyes clear and open, made his heart thump. Shepard reached out in his own turn, feeling the edges of tough plate beneath the turian’s close-fitting underarmor, traveled down to the softer hide of his waist (feeling Garrus’s breath quicken as he did), and rested on the ridge of his hipbone. Garrus’s hand rested on the waistband of Shepard’s boxers, and he desperately wanted him to just pull them down already. He had enough rational thought left to realize there were some key questions he should ask, and drew breath...

Garrus spoke first: “I’ve never been with a human, Shepard.”

That was one of the things he needed to know. “Okay.” And the other thing: “Have you ever been with another man?”

“No. Uh, you?”

“Yeah. I’ve been with men, and women. Turian, only once. Female. So.” He tried to think. He needed to take some care, here. “Let’s take things slow. Tell me if anything is uncomfortable, or you just don’t like it. And I’ll do the same. Okay?”

Garrus nodded. “Okay.”

They gave up on words, for a while, feeling out the unfamiliar contours of each other’s bodies. Garrus touched him so carefully, the unexpected delicacy sent shivers across Shepard’s skin, even apart from the sensation of the heat and slightly rough texture of his hands. After a bit he said softly, “Hey. I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, with a low rumbling undercurrent. He dug his talons in, carefully, not breaking skin, and Shepard realized that Garrus was testing precisely how far he could go before causing injury.

For his part, he gave in to a long-buried temptation, let his fingers trace Garrus’s face, over the deep blue marks, along the edges of the mandible, feeling the contrast between the harder surface of his face and the softer hide of his neck. Garrus sighed and tilted his head to the side. Encouraged, Shepard explored the side and back of his neck. The whole area seemed sensitive; he let the quickening of Garrus’s breath and the tightening of his hands guide him, lightly massaging. Garrus had to show him how his bodysuit came off. As it came away, Shepard paused; very lightly ran his fingertips around the edges of the not-quite-healed burns on Garrus’s right shoulder and upper chest. He hadn’t realized there’d been more than the obvious injuries to his head and neck.

“Does this still hurt?” he asked, and immediately kicked himself; of course it still hurt, the injury had only happened a few weeks ago. 

Garrus hesitated. “It’s a little tender,” he said, and Shepard decided to read that as understatement.

“No more almost getting killed, Vakarian,” he said. “I don’t think my nerves can take it.”

Garrus laughed softly. “No more _actually_ getting killed, Shepard.”

“It’s a deal.” Shepard bent and brushed his lips against the most-healed-looking part of the scar; moved sideways and started kissing his way up the collar ridge, then licked a path up the neck to the jawline, and nipped at the edge of the mandible. He tasted... a little metallic, a little salty, and something undefinable under that. Garrus shuddered, and his breath came faster, more ragged.

#

Shepard’s tongue was warm and wet against his neck, and his blunt teeth sent shocks through Garrus’s nerves. He still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, with Shepard, _Shepard_ , leaning into him, hands stroking his waist, tasting him as if he couldn’t get enough. Tentatively, he flicked out his own tongue against Shepard’s neck and and up to that odd protruding ear. Shepard hummed against his throat, which Garrus took for a good sign, and explored the curves of the ear more thoroughly, finding the taste of the human’s skin odd (sweet and salty mixed together), but not unpleasant. Shepard groaned outright and squirmed as he did that, his hands tightening on Garrus’s hips. He dared to slide his own hands under the waistband of Shepard’s shorts, stroking the rounded muscle.

“Mm, yeah,” sighed Shepard. “You can just take those off.” Garrus hesitated just an instant before sliding the garment down Shepard’s hips, and Shepard kicked them off, ending up kneeling between Garrus’s bent knees. Garrus looked down, for his first real view of Shepard’s penis. He’d known human men had theirs external, but it still seemed very... exposed. He swallowed, feeling a certain pressure building in his own groin. It was... not so unfamiliar, at least, although differently colored and shaped from his own. He touched it, carefully, running a finger from base to tip. Shepard groaned and thrust forward, and Garrus tried a little more pressure. “Wait,” Shepard gasped after a few moments. “Let me... get a look at you.”

Garrus obligingly leaned back to give Shepard better access, feeling just a little self-conscious as Shepard’s fingers explored between his hips and thighs. He was mostly open, but not quite fully emerged, and surely that would be a little strange for a human... but Shepard didn’t seem to mind, and rapidly found the right spots to rub, to put a little pressure. White heat shot up his spine, and he fully unsheathed, letting his head fall back with a groan and closing his eyes. 

“It’s so cool that you’re protected,” said Shepard with a chuckle. “Cerberus totally should have rebuilt me this way.” Beyond words, Garrus shuddered as Shepard closed one hand around him, gently squeezing. The other hand continued exploring, lower between his thighs. Garrus jerked as the rubbing fingers found his opening, just barely sliding in, sending a strange wave of sensation rolling through him. Shepard stilled. “Sorry. Too much? You okay?”

“It’s... okay. Good, actually, just... different,” Garrus managed after a moment. 

“Hmm.” Shepard rubbed circles around the area, setting off a series of little shocks. “Let’s try something else different,” he murmured. Before Garrus could ask what he meant, he felt the hot wet slide of Shepard’s tongue against his tip. He collapsed back onto the bed, clenching his hands in the tangled sheets, as Shepard’s tongue swirled around him, setting his nerves on fire, and somehow there was more smooth wet heat, and suction... He opened his eyes to find Shepard’s mouth sliding down over him, lips and tongue working and it should have seemed dangerous but it felt fucking _unbelievable_. He could not hold back from growling and thrusting into Shepard’s hot slick mouth; Shepard chuckled, and the vibration pushed him over the edge. His release hit like an explosion as he collapsed into the mattress.

#

Shepard caught just a taste of hot, surprisingly sweet cum before replacing his mouth with his hand, the better to watch Garrus come completely undone. The sight of his ordinarily calm and collected friend moaning and thrashing in his hands set his own arousal to quivering almost painfully. He leaned forward so he could whisper into Garrus’s ear: “That was unbelievably sexy.”

Garrus’s eyes flew open, and he swiped his long, slim tongue across Shepard’s cheek and jaw. Shepard groaned a little and licked back, slid his fingers through the fresh cum and returned to that opening that had gotten an interesting reaction earlier. Garrus was relaxed enough that it was a little looser now, though he still started when Shepard probed a little with one slicked finger. “Stop me if this doesn’t feel good,” he whispered, but Garrus moaned and moved his legs further apart. His finger slid in pretty easily, actually, more so than he’d expect in a human. He explored the hot channel gently, finding a spot that made Garrus arch and rumble something incomprehensible that ended in _Shepard_. Shepard grinned and added a second finger, moving gently, finding Garrus opening to him more easily, even eagerly. “I want you, Garrus,” he said.

Garrus groaned again and whispered, “Don’t stop.” 

Relieved, Shepard rubbed his cock against Garrus’s thigh, close to where his fingers pressed into him. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered. Garrus went still, and Shepard added, softly, “But I won’t, unless you want me to.”

He waited, hoping he wasn’t pushing Garrus too far. But the turian pulled him closer, running his talons down Shepard’s spine, a whisper of sharpness that set his nerves alight, and Garrus said, his voice low and shaking, “Yes, Shepard, do it.”

It took just a second for Shepard to slick himself up, saying, “Relax, and stop me if it’s too much.” Garrus nodded, breathless, and licked along Shepard’s jaw. Shepard pushed himself in, just a little, letting Garrus adjust, and more as he eased and loosened. Shepard groaned at the hot, tight grip of his friend’s body, of Garrus’s hands digging into his back. They both shuddered and moaned as Shepard began to move.

#

It felt odd to be filled at first, but intense, heat spreading through him again as Shepard somehow found a spot inside him that sent sparks down his nerves, and soon he was lost in the heat and friction. He was hardening again, pulled Shepard tight against him with a rumble. Shepard gasped, and found his erection with one hand, stroking his fingers up and down as he continued moving into him, and when Shepard finally shuddered and moaned Garrus’s name, the pulsing inside him set him off again, and he came into Shepard’s hand. Shepard collapsed onto him, nearly limp. Garrus stroked the back of Shepard’s head, feeling the texture of the short hair against his palm.

#

It was surprisingly comfortable, lying on the turian’s chest, in spite of the various edges and ridges. Shepard thought he could have rested there indefinitely, but as his pulse and breathing returned to normal, he became guiltily aware of how late in the day it undoubtedly was. “Damn, we both need a shower,” he said.

Garrus laughed, as easy a sound as Shepard had heard from him in ages, and said, “Yeah, I seem to have made a mess.”

“I think I helped you with that.” Shepard pushed himself up so he could look Garrus in the eye. “Everything okay for you?”

“ _Much_ better than okay.” Garrus’s arms tightened around him. “I... was it okay for you?”

Shepard grinned, looking down into those familiar eyes, somehow softer than usual. “Fucking _amazing_.”

“Good.” After a moment, Garrus added, “I wouldn’t mind... doing this again sometime.”

“Yeah,” said Shepard. His heart pounded strangely in his chest. “Me too.”


	3. Chapter 3

Shepard spent the rest of the day trying to keep himself from grinning foolishly. Miranda looked at him suspiciously, or maybe disapprovingly, when he finally made the rounds, coffee in hand. It might not be significant, though; she nearly always seemed to look at him disapprovingly. “You seem to be in a good mood today,” she observed.

He shrugged. “It was a good evening.”

“EDI indicated that you got back rather late.”

Shepard wondered what else EDI had told her, and gave her a sharp glance. “Just unwinding a bit.”

“Well, it’s... good to see you in a good mood, I suppose.” She sighed. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping me with my sister.”

Ah, that was it. Relieved, Shepard shot her a smile. “No problem, Miranda, I was glad to do it.”

He didn’t see Garrus again until the dinner hour, when the turian sat next to him at the table. From further up the table, Ken Donnelly called, “Hey, Commander! No fair keeping our boss out so late. She started the shift two hours late!” 

Shepard grinned at the engineer. “Just catching up with old friends, Ken. Blowing off some steam.”

“Is that what you call it,” said Garrus in a low voice, leaning toward him with a grin. Shepard laughed, feeling his face grow hot, and hoped nobody noticed. Looking around, he saw Tali, and waved. 

“Tali,” said Shepard once she’d joined them, “What do you remember from last night? I’m a little fuzzy on the details after the third round, or... maybe it was the fourth.”

“Oh, well, I wasn’t going to say anything, Shepard, but I do seem to remember you treating us to a serenade.”

Shepard broke through the laughter cascading around the room to say, “Oh, no. I don’t sing.”

“Is that what that noise was,” remarked Garrus. 

“You’re one to talk, after the ruckus you made when the asari asked us to leave,” Tali said. “And what was that awful brandy you forced me to try, anyway?”

“What’s the matter, Tali? You can’t take anything but quarian brew?”

She leaned toward Garrus, both hands on the table. “I think I held my liquor better than you!”

“How is that even possible?” called Kenneth. Tali whipped around to glare in his direction. Shepard heard Mordin beginning a lecture on how different species metabolize alcohol, while Garrus and Tali continued to try to piece together the events of last night. He grinned, basking in the buzz of good humor in the room, and leaned his knee against Garrus’s under the table.

#

He was still getting a feel for the team members, especially since Thane and Samara had just joined them, and so rotated the ground team regularly. But sometimes, it was good to stick to the classics. Shooting mechs with Garrus and Tali was so delightfully easy, he hardly even had to give orders. They just fell into sync with each other, the steady rhythm of gunfire punctuated by the crackle of overload and the hum of Tali’s combat drone. It was mindless enough that he found himself watching Garrus out of the corner of his eye, admiring his economy of movement, graceful even in that heavy armor. Shepard looked forward to getting the armor off him and fucking him senseless. When there was a break in the action, and Garrus moved up to join him, Shepard gave him a sideways smirk and smacked him on the ass. Garrus jumped, mandibles twitching, and shot him a sly look back. 

In the shuttle, Tali seemed extra fidgety. She kept flicking her omni-tool on and off, not looking at either of them. “Something wrong, Tali?” Garrus asked her the seventh time she did this. 

“Just checking my messages. Gabby and Kenneth are getting ready for the shielding and engine upgrades. I want to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“They know what they’re doing,” said Shepard mildly.

“Yes, but if I’m chief engineer, it’s my responsibility.” She looked at Shepard. “I’d like to stay shipside until we get the upgrades fully installed. I don’t really think you need me groundside, anyway.”

Shepard smiled. “Tali, I always need you. But yeah, you should supervise the process.” He was only half paying attention, idly thinking of what he’d like to do when he got Garrus alone...

They fucked in the shower that time. (The hot water made Garrus nearly iridescent, glistening on his plates and hide, making them both extra slippery as they rubbed together, cock against cock, flushed and panting...) Shepard usually had some extra energy to work off after a mission, and it turned out Garrus did too, so it had developed into a habit. They’d stagger their arrival at Shepard’s quarters, by variable lengths of time to deflect attention, and screw until they were both worn out. They’d tried out a number of places: in the shower, against the fishtank, on the couch, on the desk. And getting more familiar with each other’s bodies and reactions was just making a good thing better, as far as Shepard was concerned. Even though the extranet assured him it was impossible, he thought he might be getting addicted to the slightly metallic taste of turian hide. And, while he’d always thought Garrus’s voice was pleasant, he was really coming to relish the variety of growls and purrs and trills and rumbles it could make. Or maybe he just liked being the one to provoke those sounds. The one thing that surprised him, which didn’t occur to him until several days had passed, was that Garrus never expressed any desire to switch roles. Not that Shepard minded, but it was just not quite what he’d expected, as much as he’d expected anything at all. In fact, Shepard was usually the one to initiate anything new. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this: whether it due to Shepard’s more varied experience, their respective ranks, simple preference, or something else... but he put the thought aside. Garrus was certainly more than enthusiastic about everything they’d done, and if they were both satisfied, that ought to be enough. 

Shepard’s good mood seemed infectious. Whether it was being free of Alliance and Council supervision, and the attendant regulations and expectations, or whether it had to do with his... recovery, he found himself enjoying social time with the team and the rest of the crew. He let Kelly organize a regular movie night, and attended more often than not. Kasumi had a nearly-daily happy hour on the port observation deck. When Shepard dropped by, he’d often find Garrus and Tali there cheerfully bickering with each other while sharing a bottle of something, or Zaeed or Dr. Chakwas would be telling stories. Even Joker pried himself out of the cockpit to join them on occasion, and also set up a regular poker game. Shepard thought there were probably other gatherings going on that he wasn’t privy to, which was fine. He thought on the whole everything was good for morale. Everyone knew what they were up against, after all, and it was just as well for people to get to know their teammates, relax, and be a bit distracted from the impending mission. 

#

Garrus floated through the days happily enough if he didn’t think too much. If he started thinking, he started feeling nervous about whether he was making a mistake, or Shepard was, and then he started reflecting on the mistakes he’d already made, and then he got frustrated that his contacts still hadn’t turned up anything about Sidonis, and then a hard lump of anger settled in his gizzard. All that could be avoided simply by not thinking too much, so he tried that instead, letting the bitter tang of failure and betrayal recede to the back of his mind. The daily routine of calibrations was soothing; he let himself slide comfortably back into the role of subordinate rather than leader; he fell into conversation with Tali every day as if they hadn’t been almost completely out of touch for two years. Tali often hauled him to Kasumi’s to chat, and he consciously decided not to wonder where Kasumi got the high-quality liquors she seemed to have in boundless quantity. It was another thing better not thought about.

The rest of the crew was unexpectedly sociable, too. He was a little wary of the Cerberus crew, but they were all polite enough, and a good number of them were actually friendly. It was, oddly, a little easier than being on the first Normandy, where everyone had been civil and professional, but there’d clearly been more than a little stiffness regarding him and Wrex, in particular. Here, Shepard’s approval seemed enough for most of the human crew. 

He was still surprised when Joker invited him to poker night. He hesitated for a moment; he was somewhat familiar with the game, because the team had played occasionally on Omega, and he wasn’t sure he needed the reminder.

“Come on,” said Joker. “Don’t you want a shot at winning some of Zaeed’s money?”

Garrus gave in, and Joker told him when and where. 

It was a more masculine gathering than he’d expected. Garrus wasn’t sure if the various women of the crew hadn’t been asked, or had declined. Jacob and Thane and Zaeed were there, and Ken from engineering, and crewman Hadley, and Shepard. When Garrus joined the game that first time, Shepard looked up from the table with barely masked delight. 

Halfway through the night, the hand was down to Jacob, Shepard, and Garrus, who’d just upped the stakes. Jacob sighed. “I fold.”

Shepard grinned. “I call.” When the cards were revealed, he laughed out loud. “I knew you were bluffing, Garrus.”

Jacob groaned. “Goddamn, Vakarian. Being turian totally gives you an unfair advantage here. How did you know, Commander?”

He shrugged, still grinning. “I’ve known him longer than the rest of you.” 

The regular sessions did remind him of the team’s occasional card games, back on Omega, but he pushed the memory down. It was worth it to see everyone a bit more relaxed, worth it to spend social time around Shepard. Even if he could read Garrus better than anyone else could. Even if his knee or foot occasionally bumped against Garrus’s, under the table (apparently by accident, but maybe on purpose), and the contact, and his scent, could be a little distracting.

By all rights, it _shouldn’t_ be distracting. Spirits knew he spent enough time alone with Shepard; nearly every day he found himself in Shepard’s quarters, with Shepard’s body in his hands, and Shepard’s voice in his ear saying _I want you_. But he couldn’t seem to get enough. He wanted, too, more than he would have ever guessed. He’d never ventured outside his own species before, but Shepard was _Shepard_ , and extraordinary for any species. So now, oh yes, he wanted to make Shepard gasp and squirm, wanted Shepard’s hot wet mouth on him, wanted Shepard to drive into him. In spite of the species and gender issues, it felt unaccountably right to spend that time together, to give each other pleasure. They were under pressure, they trusted each other, why not blow off some steam together? It became an accepted fact for them, though they were discreet enough that Garrus didn’t think the rest of the crew knew. 

It surely wasn’t serious. It probably wouldn’t last beyond the mission. Even if they both survived, Shepard would surely have other options once all was said and done, once he’d been vindicated. But for now, if they wanted each other... why not? It was a good release for both of them, even if it would never be anything more than casual.


	4. Chapter 4

The Collector Ship was unsettling from the start. Utterly silent, except for their own steps and voices, with a warm, humid atmosphere that left a sheen on his armor. They were all on edge, Garrus and Samara following Shepard closely as they explored. The ship, and the number of pods on it, was too vast for Shepard to really comprehend. _Stay focused_ , he told himself. _Get the intel, get out._ He’d worry about the Protheans and the fact that the Collectors were apparently stalking him later.

He was so tense, so much expecting the worst, that he wasn’t even surprised when everything went to shit and Collectors seemed to emerge from nowhere. It was almost a relief to duck for cover and fall into the familiar rhythm of combat, even though it forced them to fight their way out through an increasingly hostile environment. They made their way through the corridors to EDI’s projected exit, into a large space; he dodged into cover from the fire of the Collector drones, uncomfortably aware of the too-open chamber to his left.

“Shepard, on your left,” called Garrus, and Shepard snapped left to deal with the latest appearance of Harbinger. He heard the barrage of fire on his right, but it took him a few seconds to realize that Garrus had gone down and wasn’t responding to comms. That, of course, was when the Praetorian chose to float its ungainly self into the room. Shepard cursed. 

“Samara, control the husks as best you can. I’ll take the Praetorian.”

“Understood, Shepard.”

As before, the monstrosity followed him single-mindedly. It was just a matter of staying out of the path of its beam weapon while taking every opportunity to use his own. The tactic was simple, but required patience and precision to execute; by the time the thing disintegrated into ash, he was sweaty and shaking. He sprinted to Garrus’s position anyway and dropped to his knees to dose him with medigel, muttering a plea under his breath as he checked the turian’s vitals and waited, knowing that they really couldn’t wait long if they wanted to get off the ship alive. It seemed like far too much time before Garrus coughed, groaned, and pulled himself to a sitting position. More relieved than he could say, Shepard offered him a hand and yanked him to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s run.”

#

Shepard found Miranda waiting for him when he finished telling off the Illusive Man. “Commander,” she said, “I’m sure there’s a good reason—”

He held up his hand. “Not one more word, Miranda. I’m not in a mood to hear it. I need _all_ the mission-critical intel, understand me? Or someone’s going to get hurt.” She pressed her lips together and nodded, tightly. “Full team debrief in two hours. We’ll discuss the situation then.” 

He took the elevator down to deck 3, pacing outside of medbay until Garrus emerged in civvies, a fresh bandage on the side of his head. Shepard had not liked the look of the dark blue stains on the old one, visible once Garrus took his helmet off. “What’s the verdict?” he asked.

Garrus looked startled at his sharp tone. “Mild concussion, popped some stitches. It’s not a big deal.”

“You still have stitches to pop?” Admittedly he wasn’t a medic, but the injury had been some weeks ago. Shouldn’t they have come out by now?

“Plate doesn’t heal as fast as human skin, Shepard.”

Shepard wasn’t quite convinced, and resolved to ask Chakwas for a full medical report. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Of course.”

Once in the elevator, Shepard punched the button for deck 1 and rounded on Garrus, shoving on his left shoulder until he was backed against the wall. “What did I say about almost getting killed, Garrus?”

Garrus stared down at him in shock. “It’s a concussion, Shepard. A minor one. I’m fine. Fit for duty, even.”

“Bullshit.” He had too much energy, his nerves jangling with a mixture of anger and fear and things he couldn’t name. He leaned in, filling Garrus’s space with his armored body. “You were down for the count. I thought I was going to have to haul your unconscious ass back to the ship. Again.”

Garrus’s eyes narrowed, and he shoved back, forcing Shepard to stagger backwards. “I don’t know what your problem is, _Commander_ , but you might want to pull it together before the team meeting.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors whisked open, revealing Shepard’s door. Shepard stood in the middle of the elevator. His chest felt tight, and his whirling emotions seemed to contract into a hard mass in his gut. “You pushed me,” he said, stupidly.

Garrus stepped back and folded his arms. “You can dress me down for something I actually did wrong. Tell me where I made a mistake today.”

Shepard stared. He couldn’t actually think of anything; as far as he could recall from the heat of the moment, the injury had just resulted from bad luck. “I’d... need to check the camera footage.”

“You do that,” said Garrus. “In fact, I’ll upload mine to your terminal myself. You find a problem, and we’ll talk about it reasonably. But you don’t get to push me around just because you’re pissed off at the Illusive Man. Or whatever your issue is.”

The elevator chimed again. Shepard stepped out the door before he realized Garrus wasn’t following, and turned around. “Aren’t you coming?”

He punched the button and leaned back against the elevator wall. “I think we’re done with this conversation, Shepard. I have work to do.”

The doors closed, leaving Shepard staring at the flat surface like a fool. His anger fell away, leaving him feeling cold and drained, with a gnawing worry that he might have just fucked up, badly.

He went into his quarters and stripped off his armor mechanically. He called up the battle footage on his terminal, and had to admit that Garrus was right: he’d drawn a barrage of enemy fire, dived for cover when his shields went down, and smashed into a wall head-first. Nothing that really could have been prevented. It even could have been a bit funny, in slow motion, now that he knew there was no serious injury. Joker would have laughed himself silly.

Somehow Shepard didn’t find it funny at all, though. The footage made him cringe and think of all the ways it could have gone worse. What if he’d hit the wall at a different angle and broken his neck. What if he hadn’t dived for cover when his shields went. What if... he stopped himself. Garrus was fine.

He stood up abruptly, headed into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, extra hot. He let the sweat and grime sluice off him. The tense lump in his chest failed to go with it. He braced his hands against the wall, dropping his head, letting the water pound on the back of his neck, as realization crept in.

How had he let himself come to depend on one person this much?

#

When the elevator doors opened on deck 3, Garrus found Tali waiting outside. “There you are!” she said. “I was just looking for you. Are you all right?”

He stepped out and smiled at her. Seeing Tali always improved his mood. “Never better. Turns out my head isn’t so good at boring through Collector walls, but I needed to check. You never know, it could be our secret weapon.”

She laughed and slapped him lightly on the arm. “You shouldn’t scare Shepard like that, you know.”

He laughed back. “I’ll duck more gracefully next time.”

Her hand was still resting on his arm, and she squeezed a little. He was surprised by the pressure. He’d almost forgotten for a moment that he’d left his armor to be checked out after the impact. “Hey,” said Tali, more seriously. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Minor concussion, nothing to worry about.”

“Good.” She patted his arm and withdrew her hand, a little awkwardly. “Don’t want someone else to have to straighten out the mess you’ve made of the cannon.”

“Hey, I document my work.”

Tali scoffed.

“Speaking of which, I should go take a look at it.”

She nodded. “See you at the team meeting.”

He headed off to the battery, already thinking about the next tweaks he wanted to make to the system. Something Tali had said was niggling away at his mind, though. What was it she’d said...

_You shouldn’t scare Shepard like that._

Garrus paused in midstride. He’d thought Shepard’s overreaction was misplaced anger at the Illusive Man, but... was it something else? He shook it off. Not likely. Sure, Shepard cared about his crew, but that reaction was so far beyond the norm, it was hard to imagine that it was just related to personal feelings. Something else must be bothering him, probably having to do with Cerberus or the Collectors.

#

Shepard was professional enough during the briefing. Calm, composed... conciliatory, even, letting people express their anger, but breaking in before anyone got out of control. He’d decided to hold off on acquiring the IFF device, which Garrus thought was the right call. It could do more harm than good to rush into the mission and fail it through lack of preparation.

He never really looked at Garrus throughout the meeting, and he wondered uneasily if Shepard was still angry with him, and if so, why.


	5. Chapter 5

Garrus was at work in the battery a few hours later when he heard the door open and shut. Familiar footsteps, familiar scent. “Shepard,” he said conversationally. “Need me for something?”

There was no reply. Garrus finally turned around to find Shepard fidgeting near the door, eyes somewhere on the floor. “Garrus, can we... talk privately?”

“Sure.” Bringing up his omni-tool, he executed the program that would temporarily shut down EDI’s inputs, as well as shorting out any surveillance devices he’d missed. “Is something wrong?”

Shepard exhaled. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have treated you that way, and I apologize.”

Garrus paused a moment, waiting to see if there was something more, before saying, “Okay. Apology accepted. I get it; anyone would be upset about what the Illusive Man did...”

“No,” said Shepard curtly. He sighed and ran his hands over his head. “I mean, yeah, sure, I’m pissed at Ol’ Cyber-Eyes, but that’s not why I yelled at you.”

“All right,” said Garrus slowly, a little confused. “Then... why did you?”

“Because you scared the shit out of me,” Shepard said, finally looking up, eyes burning. “It took you a long time to come around. I had no idea how hurt you were. I thought you might—” he broke off and shook his head. “I don’t really want to think about it. I can’t do this without you.”

“Sure you can,” said Garrus, trying to lighten the mood. “Not as stylishly, maybe...”

“I’m serious,” said Shepard. He took a couple of steps in Garrus’s direction, reached out one hand, and then dropped it, hesitant. Garrus didn’t think he’d ever seen Shepard this uncertain of himself. “This mission is a lot harder than the last one. This time we _know_ how hard it’s going to be, and what’s at stake. I need you. Not just in combat, and not just in bed. I—” He shook his head again. “Forget it. I’m probably freaking you out. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He started to turn away.

“Wait!” Garrus’s heart was pounding. He caught Shepard by the arm, trying to figure out what Shepard was saying, trying to figure out how to say what he felt. If Shepard were turian, it would be so much easier to send clear signals; his voice would reveal something, or he’d use an clearly understood gesture. But Shepard looked up at him, human and unreadable—or at least Garrus had never seen that particular expression before—so Garrus hesitated, and then closed the distance between them and put his arms carefully around Shepard.

Shepard sighed and returned the gesture, relaxing so completely that Garrus relaxed a bit himself. Maybe he’d found the right thing to do, that would send the right message. Shepard was warm against him, and Garrus could feel his human heartbeat and the motion of his breath against his chest. Garrus dropped his head a little. “I thought things were... casual. Just blowing off steam, like you said.” His mandible flicked against Shepard’s temple as he spoke.

Shepard chuckled, faintly. “I thought so too. Except maybe I was lying to myself the whole time. I’m good at that.” He pressed them a little closer. “I’m... not used to depending on someone so much.”

Garrus swallowed, suppressing a shiver of fear. Depending on him might not be wise. He didn’t want to say it, though, didn’t want to let Shepard down already. “I’m here if you need me,” he said instead. 

Shepard pulled back a little to look at him. “You always say that. Look, Garrus, I need to know... what you think about this. What you want. I was... kind of hoping that this... meant something more to you, too.” He waited, brown eyes intent. 

“Yeah,” Garrus whispered, his voice dropping, involuntarily, into tones reserved for intimates. He knew Shepard didn’t hear it. He tilted his head forward, resting their foreheads together, knew Shepard couldn’t read that sign either, wasn’t quite sure how to say what he was just now admitting to himself. He said, “It’s not just blowing off steam. It’s... of course it’s more.” 

Shepard sighed, “Good,” and leaned into him, burying his face against Garrus’s neck. Garrus held him tighter, overcome by a rush of tenderness. The gesture made him feel weirdly protective, as if they were nesting together, never mind that Shepard was male and alien and surely could fend for himself. He still felt good in Garrus’s arms, warm and solid, his clean, particular human scent filling the air. 

He felt Shepard’s lips press against his sensitive neck and flicked his tongue behind Shepard’s ear in answer. The lips stretched into a smile and began a series of licks and nibbles up the side of his neck. Heat spread down his spine and settled in his groin, helped by Shepard’s hands sliding down his back to his waist, only cloth between them. He gripped Shepard tighter in response, feeling the flex of muscle under his hands. There was something he should remember... something... “Shepard,” he managed to gasp, “that privacy program could run out at any minute.”

“Well, fuck,” said Shepard. He stepped back and Garrus groaned a little in protest. “Come upstairs with me?”

“Someone might see us.”

“Right now I really don’t care.”

As it happened, no one did see them. The mess was empty, even Rupert away. Garrus thought he could hear Rupert’s voice singing off-key from the direction of the bathroom. They acted discreetly nonetheless, walking side by side but not touching. His arms felt cold and empty, although his blood felt feverish, and when they got to the elevator, he turned and pulled Shepard against him, urgently, ran his hands down his spine and gripped his firm ass, pulling their hips together, nearly lifting Shepard off his feet. Shepard held onto him just for balance, gasping as he licked across Shepard’s ear and neck. Shepard nipped at his neck in turn, and he let the points of his own teeth brush against Shepard’s shoulder, just barely pricking the skin. He wasn’t actually going to bite, but it was a reminder that he _could_ , and he felt Shepard clutch him harder, quivering.

When the elevator doors opened, they stumbled out into the entry, nearly falling, reluctant to disentangle even to key open the door. Shepard fumbled with it one-handed while Garrus licked and nuzzled against him. They all but fell into Shepard’s quarters together, and Garrus immediately pulled up the hem of Shepard’s shirt, greedy for contact, wanting to feel that warm smooth skin in his hands, against his chest. Shepard yanked at the catches on his shirt, getting it open, lifting up his arms. Garrus pulled the shirt off over Shepard’s head and then pressed them together, chest to chest, skin to skin, Shepard’s breath loud in his ear as he bent to lick his way down the human’s chest.

“God, Garrus,” gasped Shepard, “I want you to fuck me.”

Garrus froze for a second, then drew back to meet Shepard’s eyes. “What?” he said, as if his translator might have fouled up a perfectly simple statement. It’s just that it was the opposite of what Shepard usually said at this point.

“You heard me.” Shepard’s voice was raspy. “I want you to fuck me like I fuck you. I want to feel you inside me.” He pressed their hips together, both of them hard, separated only by their trousers.

Garrus shuddered, unable to look away from Shepard’s eyes. Something hot and hungry seemed to be unfolding inside him that thrilled at the idea of doing what Shepard asked. Yet something about it made him uncertain. It felt slightly backwards, as if he didn’t quite know what it meant, or maybe he was just worried about making a mistake. He hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I’ll show you what you need to know.”

Which is how Shepard ended up on his back, knees up to his shoulders, while Garrus spread his legs apart and slowly, carefully, inserted one slicked finger into him. He went slow, watching the expressions flickering across Shepard’s face, feeling him stretch and open, moving his finger in a circle to open him more. He knew he’d hit the right spot when Shepard cried out and arched, his hips rocking off the bed. His own breath and pulse quickened at the reaction. Garrus withdrew his hand and pressed his shaft against the opening instead. “Ready?”

Shepard nodded, still breathless. Garrus used his hands on Shepard’s legs, pushing them apart and towards his head, and Shepard’s hands covered his. He pushed in, marveling at how tight it was, at how the resistance eased as he entered, sliding in gradually, bit by bit, until his entire length was inside. His secondary vocal cords hummed, rumbling all through him, through both of them. Shepard shuddered, and his hands tightened against Garrus’s. “God, yes,” he breathed. 

Garrus pulled out and thrust in again, a little faster, taking care to rub himself against that internal spot, and Shepard moaned and _writhed_ under him, shaking enough that only Garrus’s hold on him kept them from slipping apart. “Faster,” Shepard got out, and Garrus obliged. He knew he wouldn’t last long, Shepard was so hot and tight around him, blissful pressure, so he took Shepard’s shaft in one hand and stroked him until he came, groaning, his body pulsing. Garrus managed a few more thrusts before he too released. He spent himself with a growl and fell forward, bracing himself, but both his arms and knees seemed to be shaking. He slipped out and let Shepard pull him down on the bed beside him.

#

“Jesus,” said Shepard, still catching his breath.

Garrus rumbled in amusement. “It’s Garrus, Commander.”

“You can call me Donovan, you know.”

Garrus peered at him. “Really? Donovan.” He tried it out a couple of times. His accent gave the word an extra-hard D and stretched the vibration of the V out. It was sexy. Shepard shivered. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call you that. I’m used to Shepard.”

Shepard shrugged. “You can stick with Shepard if you want. But you can use my first name if you want to.”

They lay comfortably entangled, Shepard wasn’t sure for how long. He wondered when he’d stop grinning blissfully, after what was quite possibly the best sex of his life (and they’d been setting the bar for that pretty damn high). Eventually he made to climb up the bed and under the covers, and Garrus started to roll off. “Hey,” he said. “Where are you going? Stay the night.” He hadn’t since that first night, which didn’t really count.

Garrus hesitated. “Someone might notice.”

“I don’t care too much about other people’s bigoted opinions, Garrus.”

“I just don’t want this to affect their respect for you, Shepard. I know you’ve been working to win over the Cerberus crew, and I don’t want this to get in the way.”

Shepard sighed. Garrus was probably right, as usual. “Fine. We’ll be discreet. But no one saw us come up here, and we don’t have to leave together. Come on. I want my bedwarmer tonight.”

Garrus chuckled. “You know, my translator gives me two meanings for that, one of them kind of... vulgar. I guess they’re both true now, though.”

It was so comfortable, burrowing under the covers, curled up against a warm turian. Shepard dropped a kiss on the top of Garrus’s head, heard him rumble softly in response, and sank into sleep like a stone.

Garrus drifted pleasantly into wakefulness. Shepard’s bed was a lot more comfortable than his usual bunk, especially with Shepard in it. It really was like nesting, warm and intimate. He sighed and leaned his head against Shepard’s shoulder.

“Hey, Garrus.”

“Mmm.”

“Is there anyone else on the Normandy you’d have sex with?”

Garrus started. “That is not the first question I expected to be asked this morning.”

“It’s a game,” said Shepard with a chuckle. 

Garrus laughed. “What is it with human men? Guys in C-Sec were always asking totally inappropriate questions like that, too.”

“It’s a guy bonding thing. What, turian guys don’t check out their coworkers?”

“It’s considered a little rude to treat your comrades as if they’re ripe for conquest.”

“I’m not talking about doing, or even flirting. Just a little speculating. Way to not answer the question, by the way.”

“I’m not really into humans, Shepard.”

Shepard chuckled. “You were pretty far into me last night.”

Garrus groaned. “You’ve got me there. But you’re different, Shepard.”

“Hm. I’ll take that as a compliment. No other humans at all? We’ve got some pretty good-looking specimens. Miranda, say.”

He knew Miranda was supposed to be some sort of ideal, but he couldn’t really distinguish between her and the other women in the crew. “I think the nuances of female human beauty are a little lost on me. I’ll pass on the cold-hearted terrorist, thanks.”

“We’re talking about physical attractiveness, not personality.”

“Those things aren’t separable as far as I’m concerned, Shepard.”

“Fine. Well, what about the other non-humans? Grunt seems like a fine specimen of a krogan.”

Garrus snorted. “Yeah, that’d go well. Okeer might actually come back from the dead to kill us both. No krogan.”

“He’d probably snap me like a twig, even with Cerberus’s little extras,” agreed Shepard. “Mordin?”

“No. Plus, I don’t think salarians even do casual sex.”

“Some of them bond with asari, don’t they?”

Garrus shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Speaking of which, Samara’s quite beautiful.”

“I don’t know, Shepard.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Never been interested in asari. I know every male in the galaxy is supposed to go for them, but I’d rather keep my head to myself.”

“Hm. Well, for the record, I would totally do Samara, but I think she’s taken a vow of celibacy or something.”

“I feel so reassured.” Garrus really wasn’t sure why this game was supposed to be amusing.

“What about Thane?”

“I’d be too worried that he’d snap my neck in my sleep.”

“Oh, Garrus, he wouldn’t do that unless I told him to. You don’t think he’s attractive?”

“I don’t know. Too... slippery, or squishy, or something.”

“I’m squishy, too.”

“You are actually quite solid.” Garrus demonstrated by tightening his arms around Shepard’s ribs. Shepard laughed. 

“Okay, then. Tali.”

Garrus hesitated. “I don’t think she’d be interested. Back at Eternity, she made a big deal of how I’m like a brother to her.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Garrus had to think about this one. All of the other responses had come easily. “Fine. Yes, I’d have sex with Tali. If she were interested, which she isn’t. She used to have a giant crush on you, though.”

“Yeah, I know. She and Liara and Ashley all kept giving me that kind of look. Thought I caught it a couple of times from Kaidan, too.”

“Apparently you’re irresistible,” said Garrus, getting irritated with this conversation. “This is all hypothetical, right? You’re not actually cruising for another partner among the crew?”

Shepard was silent for a moment. “I’m not,” he said evenly, “but one thing you should know is that I’ve never been very good at exclusive, Garrus.”

Garrus tried not to feel hurt. Not like nesting, he told himself, he’s not turian. You need to remember that. “I see,” he said flatly. He started to sit up, but Shepard caught his wrist.

“Hey. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to be honest.”

“Those aren’t opposites, Shepard. Sometimes you can do both at the same time.”

Silence seemed to fill the room, making him feel tenser. Shepard was still holding onto him. Garrus sighed. “Look, Shepard. Help me out here. Where do we stand? Last night, you were saying this... whatever we have... isn’t casual, and maybe never was. Today, you’re saying you don’t stick to one person. I don’t think I’m understanding how those two things go together.”

“I don’t know,” said Shepard, and Garrus realized his fingers were trembling. “Look, I’ve had long-term relationships before, but they were... light. We both had other partners, from time to time. We both agreed, because I was traveling so much.”

“I’ve done that kind of thing, too, but that’s... I call that casual. I thought we agreed last night that this wasn’t casual.”

Shepard said, “It’s not. You matter to me. But I don’t know if I can even do exclusive. Is that what you want? Do you really never want to have sex with a turian again?”

Last night Garrus would have cheerfully committed himself to Shepard. Now he felt off balance, torn between affection, annoyance, and hurt. “So you want to have sex with humans, is that what you’re saying? Is the decision process entirely about sex? Does anything else factor in?”

Shepard finally let go of his arm. “I’m trying to forestall future problems, here.”

Garrus sighed. “I’d just like to know where I stand. Where we stand. Are we just fooling around? Do you want to try to make this last?” He took a deep breath. He didn’t really have any right to feel possessive, but he was reluctant to ask the next question. “Do you want to have sex with other people? I can adapt to a number of different arrangements, Shepard, but you have to help me out here.”

“That’s a lot of questions,” said Shepard, and stopped.

Garrus tried to steel himself to patience, but Shepard was quiet for far too long. Garrus got up and started looking for his clothes. “Why don’t you take some time to think about it, then?”

Shepard sat up as Garrus began to dress. “Where are you going?”

“I need to see if Jacob has my armor ready,” he said, pulling his boots on. “I’ll see you later. You know where to find me.”

#

After Garrus left, Shepard stared out the skylight at the stars. “Great job, Shepard,” he muttered. “You sure fucked that up.” He knew himself: he’d never been a one-person kind of guy, and he’d done well to find a series of partners who were okay with that. 

What a cliche, to be the guy who couldn’t handle commitment. He cared about Garrus, and he wasn’t sure he’d felt quite like this about anyone before, but... the idea of taking things a step further, of labeling what they were doing as _exclusive_ or _committed_ or... anything more permanent... made him feel chilled and tense. He didn’t know if he could do those things. Wasn’t it weird, really, or arrogant, to think that you could be everything someone else needed, to think that a single person could give you everything you needed? Didn’t that put too much burden, too much dependence, on that one person? Didn’t they both have enough to handle, already, without taking on something else? 

The night before, he’d had a moment of clarity, realized that he cared more than he’d known. This morning he’d awoken with warm turian leaning against him, and clarity had slid away. And the conversation had driven home that he still didn’t have a handle on what Garrus actually felt, or wanted. However well he thought he knew Garrus, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were talking past each other. They were speaking different languages. Literally, although the automatic translators made that easy to forget. This morning, he’d thought they were playing around, thought he’d sound Garrus out in a lighthearted way. Clearly, he’d ended up pissing him off, and he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

Somehow his personal life made defeating the Collectors look easy. 

#

“Morning, Garrus,” Jacob said as he entered the armory. “I’ve got everything fixed up for you. In fact, I installed a more effective impact absorption layer. Should help prevent future injuries of this kind.”

Garrus took a look at the specs and tried on the helmet. “Nice. And it fits the same. Thanks, Jacob. You do good work.”

“We all do our part,” he replied. “How’s the head? You look a little off this morning.”

Garrus paused. If he looked upset enough that other humans noticed, that... wasn’t good. “It’s fine. Just didn’t sleep that well, I guess.”

“If you want I could take a look at the rest of your armor, too. Fabricator should be able to fix that missile damage.”

“I’d rather not have it out of commission that long,” Garrus said, hedging.

Jacob shrugged. “Your call. Seems to have done well enough keeping you alive so far.”

“That’s for sure.”

He left the armory with his armor in its case. He hadn’t been sure about the Cerberus operatives at first, but Jacob seemed basically all right. Professional, no-nonsense, easy to work with, friendly enough off-duty. He took the armor to his tiny cabin to put on and emerged feeling more like himself. Wearing civvies always made him feel a little exposed.

His talk with Shepard itched away at him all morning, though, like sand between his plates. Finally he set his program to compiling in the background and switched to the extranet feed for a little research on human romantic relationships. He was rapidly bewildered. There were all sorts of levels, from one-night stand to lifelong commitment. That was not unlike turian customs, but there seemed absolutely no generally agreed-upon conventions for signalling what was what. Fickleness and changing emotions seemed the norm, which made him uneasy. That sort of thing was less typical of turians, and not what he had hoped for if he ever found... the right person. He discovered that miscommunications about romance, and misplaced affections, seemed to form the plots of a very large percentage of human entertainment. (Blowing things up seemed to be the foundation of the rest, which he frankly found much more appealing.) There was even a common stereotype that human men wouldn’t or couldn’t settle down. To make matters worse, there were so many different human cultures, which seemed almost as alien to each other as humans were to other species. 

That gave him pause. Turians had had rapid communications for so long now that most of those regional and cultural differences had been smoothed out. It was easy to forget that that wasn’t true for humans. He realized with a touch of guilt that he didn’t really know that much about Shepard. He knew that he was from Earth and that he’d grown up on the streets before he joined the military. He could call up information on Shepard’s background quite easily, but even that didn’t tell him much, just that he was from a city called Chicago. It was a large, ethnically diverse metropolis, so that wasn’t much of a guide to what to expect, either. He gazed for a while at the image of a very young Shepard, around the time of his enlistment, looking into the camera with a serious expression, and gave up with a sigh. He didn’t think the extranet was really going to help him figure things out. He had to hope that, given time, Shepard would explain himself.

It was a relief to venture out for the noon meal and find Tali at a table, and to talk with her about sensible, easily comprehensible matters like omni-tool upgrades and how to balance the power draw to the weapons systems.


	6. Chapter 6

Shepard kept trying to figure out what to say next. 

_I’m sorry I’m an asshole?  
Let’s pretend that conversation never happened?   
Look, I just don’t want to let you down?  
I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever you want, I promise it’s only you?_

He winced at the last one. Desperate _and_ melodramatic, what a winning combination. Plus, it was such a smart idea to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.

He put it out of his mind and made the rounds of the ship, collecting the usual list of supplies that needed picking up, soothing fears, the works. Thane had a bigger problem. 

“Yeah,” he said when Thane had finished explaining. “We can go find your son. We have other errands on the Citadel, anyway. I’ll have Joker lay in a course.”

“I appreciate it, Commander.”

Shepard started for the door and hesitated. Thane had been married. He seemed like a discreet, non-judgmental person, and Shepard could really use some advice. He turned back. “Thane, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Certainly.” 

“Did you ever fight with your wife?”

The corner of the drell’s mouth crooked up. “Oh, yes. Regularly. She was a strong-willed woman; I was set in my ways. Quarreling was inevitable.”

Shepard fidgeted, not sure how to say what he wanted. “Did you... fight with her before getting married? Or... about getting married?”

Thane was still, only his eyelids moving. “From the time she woke me, I knew I wanted to know her better. That process was not without its disagreements. Or its rewards.” 

“So you never had doubts about being married? About being attached to one person like that?” 

Thane’s large dark eyes flickered. “For me, that was not the difficult part. I had... other concerns. Perhaps,” he said, “if I knew more about the reasons for your questions, I could answer more helpfully.”

Shepard sighed and dropped into the other chair. “I... okay. Suppose I were involved with someone, and it started out casual, and now it’s not, quite, and I don’t know how to handle it.” There it was, out in the open. 

“Hm.” Thane pondered. “Have you said exactly that to the other party involved?”

“No.” Shepard shifted in the chair. “I said I wasn’t sure I could commit.”

“Ah. And I imagine that wasn’t well received?”

“You could say that.”

“Uncertainty seems to be a norm in human romance,” said Thane calmly. “A couple’s emotions and intentions change over time and are negotiated verbally. Even the supposedly permanent commitment of marriage often ends in divorce, does it not? This is what you are used to?”

“Yeah,” said Shepard warily. “I suppose so.”

“It might interest you to know that other species tend to approach such matters differently. Whether the differences are biological or cultural, I could not say. Asari, too, may have such vacillating emotions, though their ability to meld with their partners makes communication easier.”

Shepard wasn’t sure he liked the word _vacillating_. “I guess it would,” he said.

“And turians are quite different. There are real physiological details at play.”

Shepard fought to keep his face neutral. “Is that so.”

“Yes. Their lack of certain facial muscles makes them appear stoic and inexpressive to others, but they have strong emotions, especially for friends and loved ones. Among themselves, turians use well understood vocal cues and physical gestures to communicate emotions. It is not clear to me how much of such behavior is instinctual and how much is culturally conditioned. I gather it can cause difficulties in communicating across species lines, however.”

“That’s interesting,” said Shepard cautiously, turning over the implications. “Not that it’s relevant, necessarily,” he added with haste.

Thane’s lips quirked up again. “Of course not.”

Shepard stood. “Thanks, Thane. I should go set a course for the Citadel. How come you know so much about other species’ communication, anyway?”

“I have spent much of my life observing other sentients, Shepard. It is often enlightening. I wish you good fortune with your own difficulties.”

As Shepard headed out the door, he reflected. He’d grown to love the doubled tones of Garrus’s voice. He wondered what those tones had been telling him all this time that he hadn’t been hearing.

#

Shepard asked Garrus to join him and Thane on the Citadel. In two days, they had not yet talked about anything beyond the ongoing work on the main cannon. Garrus had been perfectly calm and professional, but distant, with just a faint hint of tension. Shepard knew perfectly well it was his own fault; he just still hadn’t figured out what he wanted to say. 

Locating Kolyat Krios required some cooperation from Bailey, a couple of easy interrogations, and some tailing of a turian politician.

“I hate guys like Talid,” muttered Garrus. “They pander to turians’ worst impulses. They’re no better than your Terra Firma party.”

They were on the catwalks above the ward’s main walkways, trying to look nondescript. Shepard said, “You follow human politics?”

“I used to. I got a bit out of touch on Omega. It’s only sensible, when turian space and human space are so connected.”

“Fair enough.” Shepard watched Talid work a crowd, his krogan bodyguard in tow. “Garrus, can we talk?”

“Sure. Aren’t we talking already?”

“I mean, about us.”

“What, now? We’re a little busy here, Shepard.”

“Think of it as maintaining our cover.” Talid was moving, and they followed, at a seeming-casual saunter.

“What cover?” said Garrus. “There are plenty of people on the Citadel who know you, and more who know me. Some who know both of us, even.”

“Our cover as people who are totally not scoping out that politician down there.”

Garrus sighed. “Fine.” He half turned toward Shepard, but kept his eyes on the target. “What do you want to talk about?”

Every opening Shepard had thought of suddenly fled from his mind. “Look, what I said the other day—it wasn’t really what I meant to say. What I should have said is that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve had a lot of casual relationships. I’ve never had something that meant more. I’m not sure how to handle it.”

“I haven’t exactly been in this position before myself, Shepard.”

“Yeah, but... look, I grew up relying just on myself.” They had to relocate to keep Talid in sight. “I used to be a kid like Mouse, Garrus. No one to count on, no real responsibilities either. I was in a gang for a while, but even there I didn’t trust anyone too much. You could never tell when someone would turn on you.” He tried to keep his eyes off the dance party in the corner. “I finally took the only way out I could see and joined the military. That’s been the road out of the slums for generations of poor Earth kids. But it didn’t really change me. I learned to rely on myself, and lead others, but... depending on someone else makes me nervous.” There, he’d said it. Maybe not well, but he’d said it.

“Nervous.” Garrus looked over the railing. “Okay. I guess I can understand that. Can I ask... do you know what it is that you want, here?”

Shepard blew out a breath. “I don’t want to screw things up. I was trying to warn you that I might. I really don’t want to hurt you. It’s not that I’m looking for someone else, it’s just... the idea of closing off all other options bothers me.”

Garrus was silent as they changed position again. “Okay,” he finally said. “I guess I should say... I think I made some assumptions I shouldn’t have. I keep responding as if you were turian, and maybe I can’t help it, but I don’t think that’s quite fair to you.”

“I don’t think I’ve been sending clear signals, myself. If you wanted to dump me for a turian, I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”

Garrus growled, and Shepard was surprised into looking at him. He hastily returned his glance to the target. “I don’t,” said Garrus, sounding a little frustrated. “It’s not about the body or the species, Shepard, it’s about who you are.”

“Well. I’m sorry that who I am is a pain in the ass.”

“No, you’re always very considerate about that,” said Garrus dryly. Shepard laughed, startled.

“Okay, then. I’m sorry I’m a jerk. And... I want things to work. I just think we should take things a step at a time. I don’t want to promise some kind of commitment I’m not sure I can live up to. I can promise to talk to you if... I want anything different. If anything needs to change.”

Garrus exhaled, staring into the distance, and Shepard frowned. “Okay,” Garrus replied after a moment. “I can live with that. Let’s... we’d better go,” he said abruptly. “There’s an area ahead that looks perfect for an attack.”

#

Garrus supposed sparing Talid’s life was a good thing. Barefaced panderer. Bailey was going to have to do some sweet-talking or some arm-twisting to keep him from pressing charges, though. He was glad it wasn’t his problem. He and Shepard left Thane at the station to have a talk with his son. 

Shepard bumped his shoulder against his. “You all right?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You didn’t exactly sound happy when we left off to go chase Kolyat.”

The truth was, he’d hoped for something more clear-cut. Shepard seemed to want to let things continue as they were... but not quite. It left him feeling frustrated and uncertain, as if the ground might shift at any time, in no direction he was prepared for. He really didn’t want to talk about it here in public, though. “I’m all right.” 

Shepard gave him a long, measuring look that made his hide twitch. He remembered all those poker games in which Shepard had successfully called his bluff. “I’ll tell you what,” said Shepard. “I think we could both use a change of scene. Let’s go out for drinks.”

“What did you have in mind?” asked Garrus slowly.

“Just relax for a bit and stop thinking about the Collectors and Cerberus and whatever else you’re worried about. It’ll be fun.”

Maybe Shepard was right. “Sure. Let’s go.”

#

There was already a decent crowd when they arrived at the Dark Star. An hour later, the place was packed, noisy and chaotic. Garrus had gotten accosted by some old friends from C-Sec and Shepard had lost track of where he was. He sipped his drink and let his eyes wander to the dance floor, full of gyrating sentients of all species. Shepard was not much of a dancer himself, but he could appreciate the various moves and physiques on display. 

A turian woman broke away from the dancing crowd and edged her way up to the bar next to him, signalling the bartender. She glanced sideways at him, then did a double take. “Have we met?”

Shepard really hoped she hadn’t recognized him. While being Savior of the Citadel occasionally garnered free drinks and discounts, he’d hoped to keep things low-key tonight. “I get that a lot,” he said. “I guess I have one of those faces.”

She looked him up and down. “I’m not just looking at your face.” He arched an eyebrow. “Damn, I don’t remember which planet it was. Maybe three years ago? There was this seedy little dance club, and you told me you didn’t know turians could even move like that?”

Shepard blinked, slowly putting things together. She did look a bit familiar... and there had been a night with a certain turian... what was her name... “Atana, was it?”

She flashed him a sharp-pointed grin. “That’s right! I knew it was you. You’ll have to forgive me, though, I’m terribly bad with names.”

“Donovan,” he said, still hoping to keep a relatively low profile.

She smiled again. “Right, that was it.” She leaned one elbow on the bar and angled toward him. “Are you all by yourself tonight, Donovan?”

“Actually, I’m here with a friend.”

She tilted her head sideways. “What sort of friend?” He thought if she had eyelashes, she’d be fluttering them. He was trying to figure out how to answer her when Garrus shouldered in on his right.

“Sorry, I could hardly get those guys to stop talking.”

Atana’s amber eyes shifted upward from Shepard’s face and widened. “Well, look at that!” she exclaimed. “Garrus Vakarian. I haven’t seen you since you went off and joined C-Sec.”

Shepard looked between the two. Garrus was staring at the woman with a slightly stunned expression. “Oh, do you know each other?”

“We certainly do,” she purred. Shepard hid a smile behind his glass. Oh, that was a flirtatious tone if he’d ever heard one. He glanced up at Garrus, who looked uncomfortable, mandibles pulled in.

“Atana Ticoris. It has been a long time. We, ah, served on the same cruiser for a while. Just before I transferred to C-Sec.”

“And why did you transfer? Afraid I’d beat you again?” she smirked.

Garrus gave her a flinty look. “It was officially a tie.”

“Officially,” she murmured into her glass.

“Wait a second,” said Garrus, looking sharply at Shepard. “How do you happen to know Atana?”

“We were just talking...” Shepard began.

“And it turns out that we met at a club a couple of years ago,” Atana put in, leaning against his shoulder. 

“Really,” said Garrus, looking at Shepard with an unreadable expression. Shepard shrugged, all too conscious of her warmth through his jacket, and not entirely minding it.

“It was quite an interesting evening,” Atana said. “But what have you been up to, Garrus? How long has it been? And what the hell happened to your face?” 

“There was an... incident with a gunship. It looks worse than it was.”

Shepard barely managed not to spit out his drink. Atana glanced at him and back to Garrus, looking skeptical. “You take on gunships in C-Sec?”

“No, I left C-Sec a couple of years ago. Too many forms and procedures. I joined Sh- un, Donovan’s crew then. What about you?”

“I finished my service a few years back. I’m with Armax Arsenal right now. I’m here on business, but I thought I’d have a little fun tonight.” She smiled. “I have to say, Garrus, it’s hard to imagine you taking orders from a human.” Atana cocked her head at him, even as her knee brushed against Shepard’s. “You were bad enough at taking orders from turians.”

Garrus’s gaze sharpened. “Maybe they should give better orders,” he retorted. 

Atana laughed. “I hope he hasn’t been giving you any trouble, Donovan. Do you have any idea how often he was written up for insubordination?”

Shepard grinned. “I haven’t had any problems.”

Garrus’s gaze flicked toward him, and he said, “Shepard gives good orders,” and then winced as he realized he’d slipped.

Atana lightly slapped Shepard’s shoulder. “I knew you looked familiar for more than one reason! I thought you were supposed to be dead.”

“Eh, rumors. You know how they are.” Shepard shrugged. “I was trying to keep a low profile. It’s just nice to go for drinks without someone recognizing me and making a fuss.”

“Mmm.” Atana looked from one to the other. “If you gentlemen would like to continue this conversation somewhere more private, there’s a well-stocked bar in my hotel room.” 

Shepard was just drunk enough that this seemed like an extremely intriguing idea. “Sure,” he said, ignoring Garrus hesitating next to him. 

Garrus gave him a sharp glance and pulled him aside as Atana paid her tab. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Shepard?”

Shepard almost rolled his eyes. “Come on, Garrus. We’re trying to relax. Do you have some kind of problem with her? It sure sounded as though the two of you had fun before.” 

His expression tightened. “That was a long time ago, Shepard, and that wasn’t my point...”

“Fun is exactly the point, Garrus. Come on, it’ll be a good time.”

#

Atana had gorgeous coppery coloring that set off her white markings beautifully. She had swirling marks on her body, too, revealed as she shimmied out of her dancing outfit. She was flexible and adaptable and more than willing to play with them together or in turn.

And watching her and Garrus together was driving Shepard a little nuts. 

He couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was. It wasn’t that he was feeling left out. She’d made a move on him almost as soon as they got to her room. They hadn’t even made it to the bed; he’d fucked her against the wall, fast and vigorous. He didn’t mind catching his breath and pouring himself a drink (it really was a well-stocked bar). But when he knocked it back and turned around, he found the two turians engaged in a brief, sharp tussle, lean limbs and spurs and talons clashing. It looked unexpectedly ferocious, and a little unsettling. It ended with Garrus pinning her to the bed, hands on her wrists and legs interlocked. 

“You’re out of practice,” he told her, with a dark undertone in his voice that made Shepard shiver.

She laughed, sounding out of breath. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to win.”

Garrus growled and thrust into her. Atana gasped, arching in his hold, and then flared her mandibles and snapped her teeth. Garrus chuckled in response. There was something at once natural and alien about their interaction, about the scrape of hide and plate against each other. It was fierce and forceful, rougher than he and Garrus usually played together, and Shepard realized how much Garrus must be holding back with him. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. He was growing hard again; he joined them on the bed, sitting next to Atana’s head and scraping his fingernails along her sensitive inner collar. The shape and the placement of scales was subtly different than what he was used to. He kept his eyes on Garrus, and as the woman thrashed and closed her eyes, snarling, Garrus looked up at him, familiar blue eyes locking with his. Shepard’s breath quickened, and he reached down, stroking his own cock as the two turians finished and separated, holding Garrus’s gaze throughout. He wasn’t done himself when Atana stretched and rolled toward him. 

“Mm,” she said, running her tongue up his thigh. “Let me help you out there.”

He let her cover him and sink down, taking him in. She was hot and slick, and her hide rubbed against his skin in a way that felt familiar and yet slightly wrong, not quite what he wanted. He closed his eyes so he could pretend, a little ashamed of himself. He gripped her hips in both hands as they moved together. He felt Garrus’s hands cover his, opened his eyes and looked over Atana’s shoulder to meet his eyes. 

#

When they left Atana’s hotel room, it was dark and quiet, without a lot of traffic in the ward. Shepard seemed more sober than when they’d entered, but was uncharacteristically silent for some time before clearing his throat and saying, “So. Did you, uh, have a good time?”

Garrus said, “Sure,” wondering what Shepard was getting at. He hadn’t missed that Shepard had spent most of the time more focused on him than on Atana. If Atana had also noticed, she hadn’t let on. “You?”

“Yeah,” said Shepard. He hesitated. “You were rougher with her than you are with me.”

“My recollection was, that’s how she likes it.”

“You’re holding back when we’re together, though.”

Garrus frowned. “Well, yeah. Making my partner bleed has never really been a turn-on for me.”

There was a brief silence. Shepard said, “Do you miss... not holding back?”

Garrus bit back a sharper response, before saying, “I told you I didn’t want to dump you for a turian, Shepard. Whatever it is that we’re doing.”

Shepard exhaled. “Yeah, you did. I just didn’t know if you’d had second thoughts, after tonight.”

“No.” Garrus couldn’t quite believe they were having this conversation in public, but at least there wasn’t really anyone in earshot.

Shepard was quiet for a few paces, and Garrus thought maybe they were done, but Shepard said, “The truth is, the whole thing didn’t quite go as I expected.”

“It was your idea,” Garrus felt obliged to point out.

“It was her idea,” Shepard corrected. 

“True.” Garrus shrugged. “Atana was always... adventurous, you could say.”

“Does that bother you?”

There was a note in Shepard’s voice that made Garrus nervous, because he wasn’t quite sure what it meant. “No,” he said, hoping he wasn’t misstepping. “I just hadn’t been. Until recently. We talked about this before, Shepard.”

“Yeah.” Shepard scanned their surroundings, looking anywhere but at Garrus. “I’ve always been game for just about anything, myself, which is how I met her the first time. So I was surprised that, um. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Garrus felt his heartrate increase, and something warm seemed to settle in his chest. “Oh,” he managed.

“Yeah. I don’t... there just wasn’t enough of a connection, with her. I... missed that.”

Garrus reached out and caught Shepard’s arm, wishing they weren’t both in armor. Shepard slowed and turned toward him, and they both stopped. “I missed that, too,” he said. 

Shepard looked at him intently, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know, maybe I’m getting too old for a string of casual encounters. I don’t know what to tell you about long-term, Garrus, I don’t even know if we have a long term. But right now I want to be with you, as much as I can get. Is that... all right?”

Garrus nodded, feeling a certain tension unknotting. While he might prefer a little more clarity, he felt himself on surer ground, and couldn’t help thinking of how, in combat, Shepard tended to throw out the battle plan and adapt to circumstances. Maybe he needed to stop worrying about consequences and just adapt, himself. “Yeah,” he said, and smirked. “Not sure I’ve got much more tonight, though.”

Shepard laughed, and they started toward the docks again. “Me neither.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's dialogue re-used from chapter 3 of "Belonging" here.

As Shepard and Garrus came through the CIC, EDI informed them, “Commander, Tali was looking for you—” and then the elevator door opened and there was Tali herself, wringing her hands, about as agitated as Garrus had ever seen her. 

“What’s wrong?” he said immediately.

“Shepard! I was just looking for you. I need to go back to the Flotilla.”

“Why?” Shepard stepped into the elevator. “Come on up to my quarters and tell us what’s going on. Unless you mind Garrus knowing.”

“No, of course not,” she said, looking from one to the other. “I can take a commercial flight, but I didn’t want to leave without telling you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Shepard. “The Normandy can take you, assuming they’ll let us approach. I know there’s some bad blood with Cerberus.”

“I think it would be all right,” Tali said doubtfully. She was clasping her hands together so tightly that Garrus was half afraid she’d rupture her own suit. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him, her slim body visibly tense.

“Okay,” said Shepard when they’d reached his quarters. “What’s the problem?”

“I just heard from the Admiralty Board today. I have to report for a... they’re charging me with treason.”

“What?” said Shepard.

Garrus snapped, “That’s impossible.”

“I know! They must have a reason, but I can’t think what I could have done.” Tali gulped. 

Garrus looked at Shepard, who nodded, and Garrus steered her over to the couch while Shepard opened up the stock of dextro liquor. She sat heavily onto the couch. “I... oh, thank you.” She took the drink Shepard offered, and clicked it into the correct suit aperture. Shepard handed another to Garrus.

He took a sip. “Tali, no one who really knew you could ever think you were a traitor.” The mere idea made him feel a cold thread of rage he hadn’t felt since sniping thugs on Omega.

“We know how much you care about your people, about the Fleet,” Shepard added, sitting down with his own glass. “This has to be some kind of mistake. Has your father contacted you?”

“No, but since there’s an official proceeding, he might not be allowed to contact me until it’s resolved.”

Garrus asked, “Have they told you any details of the accusation?” 

“No. The details are confidential, they wouldn’t send them on an insecure channel.”

“So you don’t even get a chance to prepare your defense?” he demanded. Tali shook her head.

“That’s bullshit,” Shepard announced. “Of course we’ll take you. This has to be a mistake, but I’m not going to leave you to deal with this mess alone. Send Joker the coordinates for the Migrant Fleet. We’ll head out there right away.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I really didn’t expect you to go so far out of your way.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Shepard.

Garrus added, “You know we’ll back you up.”

They talked for a while, trying to work through the problem. Tali had undertaken a number of missions for the Flotilla over the last couple of years. 

“Do you think this is about Haestrom?” asked Shepard. “Or Freedom’s Progress?”

Tali said, uncertainly, “I don’t see how. Neither of those missions went smoothly, but I don’t think anything I did there rose to the level of treason. But I can’t think what else it could be. I’ve done a lot of geth investigation, some errands for my father, some other missions for the Flotilla, and none of them seemed like problems at the time.”

Gradually Tali calmed down a little, started sounding slightly tipsy, and eventually fell asleep, leaning on Garrus’s shoulder. 

Shepard sighed. “I hate to wake her. You think she’ll be okay on the couch?”

Garrus looked down at her, a slight weight against him. “She might be more comfortable in her own bed. I can take her.”

“All right.” Shepard rubbed his eyes. “Ugh, it’s really late. We should all get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” Garrus stood and picked up Tali, careful of her suit connections. “Sleep well, Shepard. See you tomorrow.”

“You too.”

Tali was totally out. She didn’t stir at all as he took her into the elevator and down to the row of little cabins. He was briefly stymied by the amount of encryption she’d placed on her door lock, but managed to get through it by using her own omni-tool, since she’d fallen asleep with it turned on. She sighed and turned over when he settled her into the bunk. He stepped back and watched her for a moment. She’d been through enough lately; she didn’t deserve this crap. The Admiralty Board had better have a good reason for their accusations.

#

They didn’t.

The Migrant Fleet was an annoyingly long way from anywhere. It was an impressive sight, from the sheer number of ships involved, until you got close enough to see how small or antiquated or battered most of them were. They were headed for the Rayya, one of the larger ships, which provided food for the rest of the fleet. It was also Tali’s ship of origin.

Tali intended at first to go alone. “No way,” said Shepard. “What if you need backup? I’m coming, and you can pick one other person.”

Garrus said, “If you don’t let me come, it’s going to hurt my feelings, Tali. You don’t want that, do you?”

She laughed, faintly. “No, that would be terrible. Imagine all the sulking everyone else would have to put up with.”

“I don’t _sulk_.”

“Brooding, then.”

Once aboard the Rayya, Garrus rapidly came to the conclusion that quarian politics were at least as nasty as every other kind. Possibly worse. Tali’s so-called trial was nothing but an opportunity for grandstanding on the geth issue. Admiral Raan, for all Tali considered her family, seemed to him the worst of the lot. She’d let Tali walk into this situation without any warning: her father dead, geth aboard one of the Fleet’s vessels, and Tali herself charged with sending active geth parts. If anything had gone wrong with the geth, Garrus was willing to bet a significant sum of credits that the problem lay with Rael’Zorah, not with Tali. As far as he could tell, Raan hardly even had a stake in the admirals’ ongoing quarrel.

As it turned out, it was good that Shepard had come, since he was the only advocate Tali was going to get. He was, of course, seriously disadvantaged by not knowing the people, the law, or the culture, disadvantages a quarian captain would not have had. The entire tribunal was engineered to work against her. Garrus had to content himself with glaring at the various admirals. Since he had to wear his helmet, that wasn’t even an effective intimidation tactic. In spite of the wide berth the rest of the quarians were giving him, he was dissatisfied. He really wanted to shoot something. 

“Right,” said Shepard as the tribunal dispersed. “All we have to do is fight our way through a ship crawling with geth, find some data, come back, and persuade the admirals to see reason. Easy, right?”

Garrus said, “Well, fighting geth is always fun. Just like old times.”

He couldn’t see Shepard’s face very well in his helmet, but the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Sure thing. Let me go talk to the admirals first, see if I can get something out of them.” Garrus nodded, and Shepard departed into the crowd.

Tali was very quiet. The news about her father had obviously hit her hard. Garrus rather hoped Rael’Zorah was still alive. Not only for Tali’s sake, but because he’d like to tell the man what he thought of him. How anyone could raise such a smart, brave, resourceful daughter and treat her as Rael did was beyond him. He put his arm around her quivering shoulders, to offer what support he could. She leaned against his side, very slightly. He wasn’t always this casual about physical contact, but it seemed entirely natural to touch Tali, and she didn’t seem to mind.

She seemed a little off her game throughout the mission. Not badly, just a little erratic, a little too slow to react, a little too quick to move forward. And she and Shepard kept arguing about the geth situation and the quarian homeworld, leaving Garrus to actually pay attention to their surroundings. She was certain she’d only sent inactive geth parts to her father, and what information they could find didn’t indicate anything different.

And then they found one male quarian body at the entrance to a corridor, and Tali’s reaction made it more than clear they’d found her father. Garrus almost reached for her when she started sobbing, but Shepard beat him to it. He sighed quietly inside his helmet and turned away from them, keeping a watch for incoming geth. The whole situation irritated him, and he wasn’t sure which grated more: the admirals’ callous use of Tali, Rael’s foolish experimentation on geth, or Rael’s neglectful treatment of an extraordinary young woman. Tali deserved better from her only surviving parent.

He wished he’d actually had someone to take that bet when they finally found the incriminating evidence. It gave him the most real pleasure he’d had all day. They had Rael dead to rights. They could prove it was he who’d planned and orchestrated the geth experiments, and... was Tali actually arguing that they _shouldn’t use it_? Was she actually _defending_ him? Trying to preserve his reputation at the expense of her own? He caught her elbow as they returned to their shuttle, and hissed, “What are you _doing_?”

“He’s my father, Garrus,” she said, her voice thick.

“He’s dead, and you’re not, and we came here to prevent them from exiling you.”

She flinched, and he regretted his sharp words for a moment. “I know,” she said, her voice shaking. “I know that’s why we came here. But it’s different now, can’t you see that? His reputation... everything he’s done for the fleet... It’s about his _honor_ , Garrus. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Rael’s behavior _was_ dishonorable, as far as he was concerned. Garrus thought about his own father, and whether he would sacrifice his reputation to preserve his father’s... well, Garrus’s reputation couldn’t be worth much in the Hierarchy these days, anyway, after leaving C-Sec and disappearing for two years. He sighed. “All right. I get it. If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I’m sure.” She turned to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Please don’t make this harder for me.”

“Whatever you need,” he said. “I’m here for you.”

She closed her eyes. “Thank you. That... means a lot to me. More than you know.”

It played out exactly as he feared. Without the evidence, Shepard couldn’t make a good enough case, and the Admiralty Board voted to exile her. Tali said her farewells to a few friends, and the three of them returned to the Normandy in silence.

#

Tali headed down to engineering, saying something vague about getting back to work, even though she wasn’t usually on-shift at this hour.

As soon as she was gone, Shepard pounded one fist against the bulkhead and swore. “I just didn’t think she’d ever forgive me if I used that evidence.”

“You’re probably right,” Garrus agreed. 

“It’s all such a waste. They’re so focused on the geth. If they devoted even half the attention to restarting somewhere else that they do to the geth, they’d be much better off.”

“Mm.” Garrus supposed he ought to have an opinion on the subject, but was having a hard time making himself care much one way or the other. 

Shepard elbowed him. “You took some dings in the armor again.”

“Yeah, I’ll drop it off for repairs. I’m fine.”

“Right. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

He had a shower himself and changed, and stood before the elevator, irresolute. It was late. Should he try to get some work done? Go up to see Shepard? Or... he hit the button marked “down.” He just wasn’t sure Tali should be alone right now.

The lower deck appeared deserted at first, but he finally spotted her at the end of the walkway leading to the drive core, sitting on the floor, arms around her knees. He called softly, “Tali?”

“I’m all right,” she said, not sounding at all like herself.

“I can tell you’re not,” he said, coming down to join her.

“I still can’t quite believe they exiled me.”

He felt a moment’s irritation that she’d let it happen, but it faded in the face of her obvious unhappiness. “Politics,” he said, darkly. “It’s not about you. It’s about the geth and the homeworld and their own agendas.”

She was silent. Then she said, “I can’t believe my father...” and her voice gave out. Garrus sat next to her and put his arms around her, and she sagged into him, sobbing. He felt helpless to comfort her as her chest heaved and wet, broken noises emerged from her helmet, so he simply held her, letting her cry as long as she needed to. Eventually her sobs subsided, to little hiccuping sounds, and she said in a thick voice, “I thought one day he’d finally tell me he was proud of me.”

He knew very well how that felt, and held her tighter. Tali shouldn’t ever have to think she wasn’t good enough. He laughed a little, bitterly. “For some people, nothing is ever good enough. They don’t see you. They see some vision of who they think you are, what they think you should want.”

She shifted around and put her arms around his chest, hugging back. Her head drooped against his shoulder. “I just don’t know what to do now. I can’t go back to the Flotilla. Quarians are unwelcome so many places, I don’t know where I’ll go.”

She couldn’t mean to leave now, could she? The mission needed her; Shepard needed her. Why would she go anywhere? He tightened his grip, as if he could keep her. “What are you talking about? You belong here.”

She said, “Sure, for now. But what about later? This mission isn’t going to last forever, and who knows what will happen afterward. I just—” She made an odd noise in her throat. “—I don’t know where I fit! Even if I weren’t exiled, I don’t know if I’d want to deal with Fleet politics any more, and outside the Fleet there are only a handful of people I really know and trust...”

Garrus was baffled. Why was she acting as if she’d have to leave the Normandy? Didn’t she want to stay? There were only a handful of people he trusted, either. She was one of them, and the idea that she wanted to get away from them burned. He burst out, “Tali, I don’t fit anywhere either. I haven’t been home in over three years, and my father’s all but disowned me. Shepard has no family, and is cast out of the Alliance. Why shouldn’t the three of us stick together? You don’t have to go anywhere, no matter what happens.”

She surprised him by jerking away and pulling herself to her feet. “Do you think I don’t see how you look at each other?” she asked, taking a few strides away. He tensed to go after her, but she turned back. “I don’t want to be just an... an extra, Garrus!” She continued pacing, short, jerky steps. “I need to belong somewhere, not be an outsider in somebody else’s love affair.”

The full impact of what she was saying finally hit him. She _knew_. How had she possibly... he cast his mind back, but couldn’t remember saying anything to her... surely Shepard wouldn’t have... had they done anything inappropriate in her presence?

She had stopped moving and had cocked her head at him, hands on her hips. “What?” she snapped.

“I... didn’t realize you knew.” He looked away, feeling self-conscious, wishing again that he had a better sense of where he and Shepard stood, so he could explain better. “I thought we’d been pretty discreet.”

Tali’s sigh was loud and exaggerated, the kind she made when she was teasing him. He darted a glance back toward her. “Well, I know you better than most of the crew does. And I...” she hesitated.

He felt an odd flutter in his chest as he took in her stance: hips cocked to one side, fists on hips, slightly turned to highlight her silhouette, the pronounced curve of her waist and hip. He’d seen similar poses before. Mostly from women talking to Shepard: human women, sometimes asari. From Tali, even, back on the first Normandy. She wasn’t... she couldn’t possibly be... posing for... him? Just a little? He stood and took a step toward her. She didn’t move. “You what?” he prompted.

“You’re my best friends,” she said, and added, in a rush, “And I should be happy for you and I am, partly, but you have something I’m not part of and I hate it, I hate feeling like an outsider, it feels so unfair. You have each other, and I can’t go home to the Fleet, and I don’t have anybody...”

While she spoke, his heart pounded, and he had an odd feeling of something sliding into place, like finally closing a case, or solving an equation he’d been beating his head against for days. He acted on impulse, as he had when he first touched Shepard. Just like before, maybe it wasn’t smart, but it felt right. He crossed to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He said, “What if you could be part of it?” 

Up close, he could actually see her expression through her faceplate as she frowned. “What are you saying?”

He hesitated, wondering if he was reading her wrong, or if he should have talked to Shepard first. “I shouldn’t speak for Shepard. But I... I’d like it if you were with us. I think we belong together, Tali, you, and Shepard, and I. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you felt... left out. If I did, I could have...” He wasn’t quite sure what he would have done, but he hated the idea that she’d been feeling neglected and excluded.

Her frown deepened. “You’d better not be just saying this out of pity, Garrus Vakarian.”

Was she... accepting? “No!” he said hastily, and realized he genuinely meant it. “I really... I mean, we should talk to Shepard...” It was Shepard whose little game had prompted him to think about Tali... intimately, after all. He’d probably think it was funny, especially after Garrus had been irritated with the idea that Shepard might want another partner. He hoped Shepard wouldn’t be upset. He sighed, wondering why he was willingly introducing further complications to his life, and fidgeted with his visor. “I’m not good at this stuff,” he admitted.

“What stuff? Talking?” There was laughter in her voice, which seemed far more normal, and she slipped her arms around him and leaned into him, soft and supple against his chest. He held her again, tightening his hold as much as he dared, liking the feeling of her against him. “You never seemed to have difficulty talking before,” she said, still sounding amused.

He laughed back. “The problem is the emotional stuff. You can ask Shepard.”

Her arms tightened. “You’re lucky you’re kind of adorable.”

He was torn between amusement and embarrassment, and tried to think of some way to tease her back. “Uh... thanks, Tali. That’s... totally not emasculating, at all. Wait a minute!” He looked at her sternly. “I thought the mere suggestion that we were together was so ridiculous you had to laugh. A lot.” That night at Eternity seemed surprisingly long ago. 

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” She tilted her head as she looked up at him, and then laid her hand against his face. She said softly, “I changed my mind.”

#

Freshly showered and changed, Shepard paced. He’d started on the mission report, but hadn’t gotten very far. He was still pissed, and the report ought to be something other than ranting about the stupidity of the quarian admirals. What a nest of vipers, even the ones who’d claimed to be Tali’s friends. Nothing really mattered to them but the damn geth and their own dirty laundry. And with her father’s death, she had to be pretty upset herself; he should really go see if she was all right. He asked EDI for Tali’s current location, and headed down to the drive core. 

The elevator took its usual sweet time. He drummed his fingers against the wall. The deck seemed quiet when he arrived, although he heard a ripple of voices, one light and one lower. They came into relief when he stepped through the door into the engineering section.

Garrus’s unmistakable voice was saying, “... so ridiculous that you had to laugh. A lot.”

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” 

Shepard paused, momentarily thrown off. Tali sounded a lot more relaxed than he’d expected, though he wasn’t surprised that Garrus had come down to check on her. 

Tali’s voice grew softer as she continued. “I changed my mind.”

 _That_ sounded... more intimate than he was expecting. Changed her mind about what? Suddenly, Shepard felt strangely like an intruder. His feet moved him forward anyway, on autopilot, and he had just enough wits to announce his presence. “Tali? Are you okay? Oh, there you are.” He took in the pair in front of him: her hand on his face, his arms around her. But Garrus looked up and met his eyes calmly, even with a touch of relief, so he felt reassured that there was no need to worry. He asked lightly, “Am I missing out on something here?”

Tali tensed and turned, looking nervous. Garrus was the one who spoke, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Actually, Tali was feeling left out. I thought we should talk to you about it.”

Shepard looked from one to the other, wondering if they were really suggesting what they seemed to be. Tali. With him and Garrus. They were two of his favorite people in the galaxy... all right, pretty much exactly his two favorite people in the galaxy, so... yes, if they could figure out how to make it work. Relief mingled with a sense of possibility and affection, and he smiled. He stepped forward and hugged Tali; Garrus, over her shoulder, smiled and touched his arm. Shepard said, “Really? Yeah, we should talk about that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 of "Belonging" occurs after the previous chapter and before this one.

Shepard returned to the Normandy eager to wash the inevitable stink of Omega off himself. He’d gone to talk to Aria, hoping to get some useful intel, bringing Zaeed and Jack along as backup. In Aria’s usual style, they’d gotten roped into doing errands for her, in return for not much. It had been tedious and irritating, all around. Shepard was looking forward to a more pleasant evening. It had been a week since he, Garrus, and Tali had first had sex. Following Mordin’s suggestion, they’d dutifully waited several days to see if she suffered any ill effects. She’d run a fever for a couple of days and now insisted that she felt better. In the meantime, the three of them had spent their time together talking and watching the occasional vid. And—Shepard had to admit it—snuggling. Even in her envirosuit, Tali preferred to have contact with one or both of them, if possible, nestling against somebody’s side while they relaxed on the couch in Shepard’s quarters. Some of that time had been taken up with discussing the ground rules for this new phase of their relationship, and Tali had some fairly intriguing ideas about her next out-of-suit session. It was probably safe to try again, so tonight could be a very good night...

Kelly’s voice interrupted his reverie as he passed through the CIC, Jack and Zaeed having gone ahead of them.

“Shepard,” Kelly said, “Garrus would like to see you in the main battery.”

Shepard stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t imagine why Garrus would relay a message to him through Kelly, instead of contacting him more directly. “Did he say why?”

“No—he just said something about needing to see you. But I think he got a message that got him fired up about something,” she added.

Shepard turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “Did you happen to see that message, Kelly?” He knew she and Miranda both monitored his communications, but Kelly _wasn’t_ supposed to be reading the crew’s mail.

The yeoman blushed to the roots of her red hair and looked down. “No, sir. I don’t know the content. Just that a message was received.”

So she was looking at what came in and out, but not at the messages themselves. That was... acceptable. Barely. “Thank you, Kelly. I’ll talk to him.”

She nodded, still a little pink, not meeting his eyes.

He was winning them over, he thought, heading to the elevator. They were becoming his crew, not Cerberus’s crew. A month ago Kelly would have covered better, not shown any embarrassment at the possibility of violating someone’s privacy. Because now she wanted to live up to his expectations, not the Illusive Fucking Man’s. Making this crew loyal to him was one of the harder things he’d done, a real test of his ability to lead, and the fact that it was working was immensely satisfying.

He needed a little more time before they’d choose him over Cerberus, though.

Reaching the crew deck, Shepard put on a smile before rounding the corner into the mess. He greeted the quartet of crew members taking a coffee break, chatted with Rupert about the night’s menu and his supply list, and waved at Chakwas through the window to the medbay. This was part of how he won them over: by showing genuine concern for everyone on the ship. At this particular moment, he was also procrastinating, just a little. His good humor faded as he headed down the corridor, and he hesitated before activating the door. He just wasn’t sure what to expect. Garrus might be his friend, his comrade, and more recently his lover, but the turian’s moods and reactions were still a little opaque to Shepard at times. An unexpected message could mean almost anything. He rolled his shoulders, settling himself, and hit the panel that opened the door.

Garrus turned as soon as he entered, his movements unusually hasty, almost jerky. The main battery usually had a quiet hum from the guns and other equipment, but now the buzz seemed magnified. Shepard took in Garrus’s obvious agitation with discomfort, as he said, “Shepard, I’m glad you came by. It’s about Sidonis. I’ve got a lead.”

Shepard blew out a breath, placing the name. Garrus’s missing teammate. The traitor. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What have you got?” He had kind of hoped Sidonis would disappear thoroughly enough that they wouldn’t have to deal with this before finishing the Collector mission. Or, possibly, ever. Yeah, Shepard would have been really quite happy to write off Sidonis as a lost cause, and encourage Garrus to forget all about him, too.

But no, it turned out the turian had been seen on the Citadel, had made contact with a fellow called Fade, a forger and smuggler and generally shady piece of work. Shepard’s heart sank as Garrus explained the situation. He had no love for traitors, still less those who’d betray someone _he_ cared about. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the way Garrus was pacing back and forth in the battery, every movement stiff and abrupt, without his usual casual grace. The problem was the tension in his shoulders, the snarl in his voice, and the cold light in his eyes. Ordinarily, Garrus was passionate about justice, yeah, but... not like this. Shepard had seen flickers of this before. There’d been a trace back when they tracked down Dr. Saleon. He’d seen more of it after Garrus boarded the SR-2; once the exhaustion and physical pain had faded, there’d been this, the angry avenger lurking within his friend. It surfaced whenever they talked about Omega, which wasn’t often. Lately, he’d thought that Garrus had begun to put the grief and anger and bitterness behind him. That being together, having Tali aboard, and now being with Tali, too, were helping him cope, bringing back the generally calm, kind, reliable guy he’d gotten to know. He liked that guy. He depended on that guy. He... cared about that guy. _This_ guy, the angry one, made Shepard nervous. In his experience, people on edge made mistakes.

“All right,” he said, forcing calm into his voice. “How do you want to play this?”

Garrus stopped moving, for the first time since Shepard had come in, and turned to face him. “Don’t you humans have a saying, ‘an eye for an eye’? He owes me ten lives, and I plan to collect.”

Shepard released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He stepped forward and touched Garrus on the arm. “Are you sure about this? It’s not going to bring them back.”

Garrus looked down, eyes blazing with something Shepard wasn’t used to seeing there. “Do you really think I don’t know that, Shepard? It’s not about bringing them back. It’s about justice. This isn’t like the Saleon case, you were right that time. But Omega has no laws. There’s no court to bring Sidonis to. This is the only way.”

“I get that,” he said, tightening his grip and wishing Garrus weren’t wearing armor. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.”

“What I regret,” Garrus growled, “is not spotting his treachery before it was too late. That was my mistake, and ten good people paid for it.” His voice, and eyes, softened. “I don’t need you to agree with me, Shepard, but I’d like your help.”

 _You’re paying for it, too_ , thought Shepard. _And now we both are_. But he didn’t think it was in him to deny Garrus anything. Not after doing favors for half the rest of the squad. Not after everything they’d become to each other. He squeezed Garrus’s arm once more and let go. “All right. Set up the meeting. I’ll have Joker set a course for the Citadel.”

“Thanks, Shepard.” Garrus caught his arm as he turned to go. “This means a lot to me. I appreciate it.”

Shepard held his gaze for a moment. The anger was still there, snapping away beneath the surface, but he’d relaxed just a little. Shepard managed a smile. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

#

“You brought me coffee? You’re the best, Tali.” Joker accepted the mug and took a sip with a sigh.

Tali smiled. “Well, I have to keep my favorite pilot alert, don’t I?” She also liked to save him the walk, but, tactfully, she didn’t say that. She’d gotten into the habit of dropping by the cockpit on the first Normandy, and had rapidly learned that bringing coffee got her a warmer welcome from the prickly pilot. Eventually he seemed to enjoy the company, and she liked looking out at the stars. “Where are we headed?” she asked.

“Citadel.”

“Weren’t we just there a couple of weeks ago?”

“I know. I guess Garrus got a lead on his traitor, so back we go.”

Tali frowned. Garrus had told her the story tersely once, soon after she’d come aboard. He hadn’t mentioned it since. Occasionally, over drinks, the two of them had talked a little more about Omega. Or, at least, the parts of the last two years that made good stories. He’d never said a thing about still hunting the traitor, and Shepard hadn’t said anything either. She was a little disturbed that neither of them had mentioned anything of the kind to her. “What do you think he’s going to do when we get there?” she asked hesitantly.

Joker shrugged. “If I had to guess, the guy’s going to get a hole through the head. I doubt Garrus is chasing him down just to give him a stern lecture.”

Her frown deepened. She excused herself a few minutes later, saying she needed to get back to work, but she made her way to the third deck instead. She was glad there was no one around in the common area to distract her as she made her way toward the forward battery. Fortunately, the access panel was green, and she activated the door without thinking about it. Once she entered, she could immediately see how tense he was, almost vibrating with barely suppressed energy. Now that she was here, and the door slid closed behind her, she hesitated, not quite sure what she wanted to say. He still had his back to her, although he had to know she was there. “Garrus?”

He leaned on his workstation for a moment and greeted her without turning around. “Hi, Tali. Do you need something?”

“I...” She took a couple of steps closer to him. “Joker said we’re headed to the Citadel. That you had a lead...” On a whim, she flicked on the program she’d recently installed. It was an experimental one, put together by a quarian on pilgrimage in turian space, designed to analyze and interpret the secondary harmonics of turian voices. The emotional registers that other turians picked up on instinctively were difficult for other species to catch, especially through translation software. She’d thought the program might be useful, but she hadn’t really tried it out before.

“On Sidonis. Yeah.” His voice was heavy as he finally turned to face her. He still wasn’t quite looking at her.

_Program running. Adjusting to input sample. Analyzing._

“I don’t think you’ve quite told me the whole story,” Tali suggested, trying to keep her own voice steady.

“There’s not much to tell.” He folded his arms and leaned back against the console, tapping one foot, looking into the distance. “He sold us out and ran. Lured me away, sold the location of our base, and got himself off-station before I knew anything was wrong. By the time I got back to base, all but two of the team were dead, and they... didn’t last long.” His voice seethed with so many undercurrents that the program blipped at her: _Analysis incomplete. Principal harmonics registered: sorrow, hatred, regret, anger. Analyzing._

Tali shied away from the image of Garrus coming back to the scene. He’d talked about his team members just enough that she didn’t think she wanted to know which ones had lingered until he returned. “What are you planning to do?”

He looked directly at her for the first time since she’d come in, and then looked away again. “I’m planning to bring them some justice.”

She swallowed. “Do you know... why he did that?”

“What, betrayed us? I’m guessing money. Or maybe cowardice.”

“Why would he separate you from the others?” she asked slowly, trying to put the pieces together. If the goal was to eliminate the entire team, having their leader separated didn’t quite make sense.

“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly get a chance to ask,” and she didn’t need the program to hear the bitter sarcasm. “I did get attacked where I was supposed to meet him, but I gave them the slip. I guess they underestimated me.” 

_Analysis continuing. Principal harmonics: anger, satisfaction. Analyzing._

Tali hesitated. “What was he like, before?”

“Who? Sidonis?” He pushed off from the console and paced, covering the battery in just a few long strides. He was growling, softly, right on the edge of her hearing. “What does it matter?”

“He was a friend once, wasn’t he?”

“Once. And then he betrayed us, and caused the deaths of ten good men. I hope you’ll excuse me if I don’t want to reminisce about the good old days.” Sarcasm, again. She strained to take in all of the subtonal elements, though she knew she couldn’t hear the right frequencies. 

_Principal harmonics constant throughout input sample: anger, sorrow. Occasional elements present: satisfaction, fear, regret. Analyzing._

Regret? She couldn’t restrain herself any more, and burst out, “Do you really want to hunt down and kill someone who used to be a friend, just murder him in cold blood?”

Garrus’s head snapped toward her, blue eyes burning, and he shot back, “It’s not murder, Tali, it’s justice. It’s no more than he deserves for what he did.”

She flinched. She’d seen him angry before, but he’d never directed it at her. “It just doesn’t seem like you.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Tali. I executed a lot of people on Omega who were just as bad as Sidonis. I’m not you. I’m not...” He stopped for a moment, and Tali wondered what he’d been going to say. When he spoke again, he sounded weary. “I told Shepard I didn’t need him to agree with me. I don’t need you to agree with me, either. I’m sorry if I’m not who you think I am, Tali, but I’m going to do this. I need to, for them.”

The program blinked inside her helmet, not adding anything more to its analysis, and she flicked it off with a blink of her eye.She didn’t like the simmering anger, but even more she didn’t like the sense of weary resignation she had from his last words.

She didn’t want to push him any further, but she couldn’t just leave things this way. Garrus had come down and talked to her after they left the Flotilla, and held her while she cried, and... she wasn’t sure what he needed right now, but surely he needed _something_. She stepped forward and hugged him. It was awkward. He held himself stiffly; his arms came around her only gradually. It was a poor contrast to all the hundreds of times he’d casually draped an arm over her shoulders, all the time she’d spent curled up to his side in the last week, the one time they’d touched skin to skin. Damn it, she _knew_ his body was not naturally this rigid, turian or not. She bit her lip and said, “I’m here for you, you know. I’m just worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine, Tali.” He patted her back, awkwardly. “I just need to take care of this, that’s all.”

She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t want to provoke another argument. 

#

Once Tali had gone, Garrus locked the door and sighed. He’d known she wouldn’t approve. She still seemed so young sometimes; she was still an optimist who wanted to see the best in people. He liked that about her, that sweetness, but she just hadn’t seen as much of the universe as he had. He wondered, idly, when he’d started feeling old.

Maybe she didn’t have the same concept of duty that he did, either. She took her responsibilities seriously, he’d never fault her on that, but his debt to the dead... he wasn’t sure she felt it the way he did. They’d talked about their lost teams from Haestrom and Omega, a little. He’d offered suggestions about writing the condolence letters, when she’d asked. It was different, though. Her team had been assembled by the Migrant Fleet. They had died in clean combat with a known enemy, not to treachery and ambush. His squad... he’d chosen them himself. They’d worked together over months. And he’d failed to notice that something was wrong, that one of their own couldn’t be trusted. His fault, his failure. He knew he’d disappointed Tali, but it was worse that he’d failed those who depended on his leadership. He owed it to his men to make this right. He couldn’t fix his own mistake, but he could make sure Sidonis paid for his.

He’d made his inquiries weeks ago, and nothing had panned out for so long that he’d almost forgotten, in recent weeks. Shepard and Tali between them had kept him thinking about other things. He’d been lulled by their comfort and the daily work and even the combat missions. He took off his visor, and traced the names carved into the frame, bringing to mind each face. _I’m sorry_ , he told each of them. _I won’t forget again._ It didn’t quite assuage the guilt.

The important thing was that Shepard had agreed to help him. He could track down Fade and Sidonis on his own, if he had to, but Shepard’s assistance would make things significantly easier, would open up tactical possibilities he didn’t have on his own. Shepard hadn’t seemed entirely comfortable with the idea, either, but he’d agreed. He would have said something more if he’d had real objections. Garrus sighed, again. He knew he might still have to reckon with Shepard’s opinion at some point. As for Tali... Tali might never look at him the same way again. He might be straining his bonds with both of them, but if that was the price, it was one he had to pay. _I’m sorry_ , he thought again, turning the visor in his hands, and wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to this time.

#

When Shepard answered the door to his quarters, Tali said, without preamble, “Shepard, you’re not going to just let him do this, are you?”

Shepard sighed and stepped aside so she could enter. “Nice to see you, too, Tali. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.” 

She came in, twisting her hands together. Shepard followed her down to the sitting area. Tali hesitated, still fidgeting, as he flopped down onto the couch, and then perched herself at the edge of the other couch, her knee bouncing up and down. She’d spent enough time up here over the last week or so that she shouldn’t be so tense... but it hadn’t been just the two of them, before. The space between them felt unnaturally empty without Garrus’s bulk in it. Since Tali seemed reluctant to speak, Shepard said, “So. I gather you’re not comfortable with this mission.”

“Are you saying that you _are_?” Tali rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, her bright eyes wide. “You don’t have any problems with him just killing this Sidonis?”

“It’s not that I have no objections. I just don’t think it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? I thought we didn’t kill people unless we have to, Shepard. Why is this time different?” 

Shepard shifted his weight from one side to the other and rolled his shoulders. He’d been thinking this over most of the afternoon, wondering if he should go back down and try to talk Garrus out of it. He hadn’t been able to make himself do it. His thoughts kept rolling back to Omega. “You weren’t there, Tali. You didn’t see...” He didn’t mean it as a reproach, but Tali flinched as if it were one. Shepard didn’t notice, looking off into space.

_The building was riddled with bullets and stank of smoke and blood, some of it fresh, from the mercs Shepard and Jacob and Miranda had just shot, some of it days old. Ten corpses were shrouded in sheets, laid out side by side in one of the rooms; as he mounted the stairs, Shepard wondered momentarily that Archangel had taken the time to do that rather than make his escape. He was a formidable opponent, but he was obviously a crazy bastard, too, to deliberately piss off the merc companies like this. With his squad dead, bunkered down in this hellhole, what state of mind was the guy going to be in? He’d obviously realized they weren’t enemies, but Shepard still wasn’t sure what kind of reception he was going to get. He pelted up the stairs, bracing himself for a vigilante who still might shoot him on sight, or who might not be entirely sane. “Archangel?”_

_Shepard stopped in the doorway. There were billions of turians in the galaxy. Probably a lot of them favored blue armor. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. He tried to push down the little ball of hope that seemed to be rising in his chest._

_Until the turian turned, sat heavily, and pulled off his helmet. “Shepard. I thought you were dead.”_

_“Garrus?”_

_They talked, but Shepard absorbed the words without thinking much about them until later. What caught his attention now was the shoulders sagging with exhaustion, and the look in his friend’s eyes, drained of everything but grief and anger. Only that had kept him going this long, and even that was worn to a thread..._

“You didn’t see what it was like,” he repeated. For him, it wasn’t about the deaths of ten people he’d never known. He’d never tell Garrus, but they just weren’t that important to him. He was willing to see Sidonis dead because of what he’d done to _Garrus_ , not the others. “It was a mess. I never want to see a friend of mine in a position like that again.” He never wanted to see that _look_ again, the pain and emptiness he’d seen in Garrus’s eyes. “Garrus is right. Sidonis deserves to die. If anyone on this team betrayed us and killed most of you, I’d probably go after the traitor myself.” 

“I don’t—it’s still not right!” cried Tali. She was trembling, her hands alternately clenching and winding together. “You don’t even know what happened, maybe there were mitigating circumstances, maybe he was coerced. Neither of you has asked the questions! You are soldiers, not murderers! You don’t just kill people because they’ve angered you. Do you really want to give up who you are, who both of you are, for revenge?”

“Is it revenge?” asked Shepard. “Or is it justice? Sidonis is responsible for ten deaths, Tali. And it would have been eleven if I hadn’t gotten Garrus off that station fast enough, and if Chakwas and Mordin weren’t damned good at their jobs.” He really didn’t like thinking about that possibility, remembering how he’d fretted while they put Garrus back together, the memories all the more piercing since they’d become lovers. _I don’t know what I would have done without him_ , he thought, and forced the worry away: _It didn’t happen that way._ “Ten deaths is more than enough to warrant the death penalty in a lot of places. But Omega doesn’t have any laws. Why shouldn’t we carry out a sentence of execution?”

Tali sniffled, and Shepard cringed at the thought that he’d made her cry. “Because... okay, we don’t have capital punishment on the Migrant Fleet, but... because the wronged party doesn’t get to set the sentence, let alone carry it out. Justice has to be... has to be neutral.”

“What, do you want me to get Samara to do it? I bet she would. I mean, I don’t know her whole Code, or anything, but I bet betraying your companions and getting most of them killed violates it.”

Tali was silent for a while. “That would be better,” she said, finally. “Look, Shepard, it’s not Sidonis I care about. I’m not begging for his life. I care about Garrus. Do you really want him to do this? Is this even what he really wants? What is this going to... make him into? Is he truly the kind of person who’d hunt someone down and kill them in cold blood, because they’d done a wrong, like... like Zaeed?”

Shepard blew out a breath. He kind of liked Zaeed, or at least he respected the old merc’s skill and toughness. Hell, he could have turned out like Zaeed, if he’d become a mercenary instead of an Alliance marine. Maybe he would still end up like him, if the Reapers took their sweet time showing up. Maybe in thirty years he’d be swaggering around some dive, showing off his scars, telling old war stories, a little too attached to his favorite gun. But Tali had a point: Zaeed had been willing to set a refinery full of civilians on fire to get at his nemesis. That wasn’t Garrus. Garrus hadn’t told him that much about his work on Omega, but Shepard remembered what he’d said: _No civilian casualties, that was our rule... clean and surgical._

Would he change? Would his anger toward Sidonis push him over the lines he’d set for himself? “No. I don’t think so,” Shepard said, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that he wasn’t really sure. 

“And he’s not acting like himself. He’s all...” Tali waved her hands, trying to convey what she meant. “Stiff and twitchy at the same time.”

“I know.” Shepard had seen the same thing, after all. “I’m worried, too, but what do you want me to do? He almost died.” He stopped, trying to dispel the memory of the gunship and a pool of blue blood on the floor, his own queasy terror as he listened to each hard-won, rasping breath. “He almost _died_ , Tali, and he would have died alone, thinking no one in the universe really gave a shit about him, and we might never have even known what had happened to him.” Shepard shook his head, as if he could shake off the memory. _He_ would have come back to find his team scattered to the ends of the galaxy, one of them never to be found, and he’d never have had the chance to learn they could be more than friends. “So now he has to live with what Sidonis did. He’ll have those scars the rest of his life. He lost ten friends. I don’t blame him for being angry.” Although _angry_ didn’t seem like quite the right word; Garrus was practically incandescent with rage. 

“I don’t, either, but I don’t think this is the way to deal with it.”

The silence stretched out. Shepard shifted, uncomfortably. “Look, Tali, I hear what you’re saying. I don’t like this, either, but...” He swallowed. It was hard to talk about his past. He’d put so much of it behind him when he joined the marines in the first place, and all the years and accomplishments that followed had pushed it further into the past. The Hero of the Blitz, the First Human Spectre, the Savior of the Citadel; none of these men had much in common with a teenager on the streets of Chicago. It was especially hard to talk about it with Tali. She seemed—not innocent, exactly, but—untouched by the kind of crap he’d grown up with. “I don’t know how much you know about my past,” he heard himself saying, “but when I was a kid, I ran with a gang.”

Tali’s head tilted, her eyes bright behind the mask. “I knew that. I remember running into that man on the Citadel.”

“Yeah, Finch. Well... for a while, I was an enforcer. I was pretty big for my age, and I reported to Finch. He had me putting the fear into people who might leave the gang, or snitch, or whatever. I’d rough them up, make some threats, whatever it took to keep them in line. And then one day, Finch told me he had a special case. One of our guys was going to go to the cops. We couldn’t just beat him up like usual, he said, we had to send a message that no one was going to fuck with us that way. He took me out to where the guy was. I knew the guy, not real well. He was a couple years older than me, and kind of an ass. The other enforcers had already given him a pretty thorough going-over. Finch put the gun in my hand, and told me it was up to me to show him how I’d deal with traitors.” Shepard had to force himself to go on. He didn’t think he’d told this story to anyone before. “It was the first time I’d killed anyone. I was fifteen years old.”

Tali’s hand was on his arm. He looked up at her, startled by the unexpected contact. “You were a kid, Shepard,” she said gently.

“Yeah. And I killed people because they were traitors. No, worse than that. I killed people because my boss told me they were traitors. It’s not like I checked out the details for myself. With what I’ve done, what right do I have to judge Garrus? I don’t... I’m not sure I can deny him this, Tali.”

She surprised him again by hugging him. He squeezed her in return, a little awkwardly, more relieved than he could say that she didn’t seem angry or horrified at his story. “You were a child,” she said again, “in a tough situation. And do you regret what you did?”

There was only one answer to that. “Yeah,” he said wearily. “All right. What do you think we should do?”

Tali blinked, thrown by the question. Shepard was the one who came up with plans. She sat back. “I don’t know... I think we need to be ready to react to anything, but... I don’t know if he really wants to go through with it. I think he’s more conflicted than he’s letting on. Do you think you can... stall, maybe?   
try to make him slow down. We need... we need to make a space where he can really think about what he’s doing instead of just feeling. Buy some time.”

“And then what?” Shepard looked at her hard. “What if we make that space to think, and he still comes to the conclusion that he wants Sidonis dead?”

Tali lowered her eyes. “I don’t know. But this isn’t right, Shepard, you know it isn’t. We have to do something!”

“Okay. We’ll give this a try your way. But, Tali...” He reached out and took her hand. “You should think about what you’re prepared to do, and say, if Garrus doesn’t do what you hope he will.”

Tali swallowed and nodded, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. “Come here,” said Shepard, as if he saw her uncertainty. She slid over next to him and leaned into his side, grateful for the contact. 

“I just don’t like seeing him like this,” she said after a moment.

“I don’t, either,” he said, and she slipped her arm around his waist, giving a little comfort back.


	9. Chapter 9

Usually Garrus made some comment about working at C-Sec when they crossed the security line. Today he was grimly silent. Shepard exchanged his usual pleasantries with the turian officer at the gate, and stopped to chat with Bailey about Fade, trying to ignore how Garrus vibrated with impatience behind him. “Ease up,” he said as they moved on into Zakera Ward. “We’re early. We’ve got plenty of time.” 

“That doesn’t mean we need to waste it.”

“We have nothing in particular to do with the time. Relax. Let’s not look like we’re on a serious mission, here.”

Garrus sighed and attempted to adopt a casual pose. “Better? Wait, _what_ is Tali doing?”

Tali was moving, as if drawn by a magnet, toward a quarian woman who stood, fidgeting, next to a human C-Sec officer and a gesticulating volus. Shepard started toward them when he heard Tali’s voice rising: “So you’re just accusing her of theft without any evidence?”

“What makes you think she took his credit chit? Just because she’s a quarian?” she was demanding as Shepard approached. 

The C-Sec officer said, in a flat tone, “She doesn’t have it on her, but she could have stashed it somewhere. And your interference is not necessary here.”

Shepard interrupted smoothly, “What seems to be the problem here, officer?” Tali patted the other quarian on the shoulder while he listened to the story. Garrus, coming up behind him, crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Shepard could almost feel the glare on the back of his neck. 

“You’ve got nothing,” Garrus snapped when the officer finished explaining. “That’s a completely flimsy accusation, and you know it.”

The volus huffed, and the blond human glared up at him. “And who might you be?”

Shepard said, “Ah, my friend Vakarian here is a former C-Sec officer himself...”

“Eight-year veteran,” said Garrus with a cold stare.

“... and I’m a Spectre.”

“Oh.” The human officer rocked back on his heels, grimacing. Shepard guessed he knew that he was outclassed here. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that my credit chit is missing,” complained the volus. 

“Maybe you left it at one of the shops?” Shepard suggested.

That turned out to be the case. But not before Tali and Shepard, with a fuming Garrus in tow, checked three shops personally. The officer clearly wasn’t planning on doing a thing about it, Tali refused to leave the other quarian, Lia’Vael, in the lurch, and Shepard knew they still had plenty of time. 

The officer was still taking statements from the volus and quarian when they got back. It had really only taken a few minutes. “Your chit’s at Saronis applications,” Tali informed the volus. “They’re keeping it for you there.”

“Oh.” The volus inhaled. “Well. Thank you. She could have stolen it, though.”

“Right.” The officer turned his pad off in disgust and turned to the quarian. “You can go, but we’ll be watching you.” 

Tali gasped, but before she could get a word out, Garrus was in the human’s face. “Flimsy evidence, a false accusation, and you’re going to be watching _her_? Keep an eye on the volus, you idiot. And—” he flicked the officer’s badge with a talon, “Bailey’s going to hear of your utterly shoddy performance of your duties.”

The man took a step backwards, tightening his jaw. “You’re of course entitled to make a complaint about my conduct...”

“By filling out form P-4520 and filing it with the ward captain or C-Sec central operations.” Garrus bared his teeth in the human’s direction. “Yes. I know. I’m well aware of the regs. We’re also personally acquainted with Captain Bailey.”

The officer retreated, just barely not fleeing. The volus had already vanished, moving pretty fast for a guy with short stubby legs, Shepard noted. Garrus turned back to his companions. “Now can we please do what we came here for?”

As they headed to the warehouse, Tali ventured, “You were kind of hard on that officer, Garrus.”

“He’s obviously a bigot, Tali. Do you want him to keep harassing quarians on the Citadel?”

“No, but... it just doesn’t seem like you.”

His mandibles tightened against his jaw. “I’ve been hard on people before. There are a few P-4520s in my personnel file.” He glanced at Shepard, then away. “You’ve had access to my files, Shepard. You should know this.”

“I was a little more concerned about your qualifications than complaints about your conduct, Garrus.” Shepard did recall a couple of official censures for risk-taking and excessive use of force, which hadn’t concerned him much at the time.

Garrus sighed. “Let’s just get this done.”

#

Tali frowned behind her mask. Had she ever met a volus who wasn’t some sort of _bosh’tet_? She couldn’t think of one. Cataloging the volus she had encountered in her life helped keep her mind busy while Garrus and Shepard between them got the volus currently in front of them to talk. Really, Shepard was the one doing most of the talking.

Garrus had just been the one to draw a weapon first. She eyed him now, standing in front of her and to the left, his posture stiff and edgy. He’d stepped back after the volus gave in and Shepard took over asking the questions. Garrus was the silent threat that accompanied the questions: _answer us, or I’ll let the turian do what he wants_. She’d seen Shepard smooth-talk people out of information before. She’d seen Garrus turn on that predatory, intimidating glare before, too. But usually it was a persona he put on when need arose and shed just as easily. She had the sense now that he was just looking for an outlet for his anger, be it a volus criminal or a bored C-Sec officer. Even if they did both deserve it—and she found it hard to deny that they did. She grimaced to herself. She just didn’t _like_ it, and she wanted her friend back, the one who teased her and talked tech with her and always noticed when she was upset. The one she loved. And that just made her feel selfish, because now he was the one who was upset and hurting. That much was obvious, but she couldn’t figure out how to help him, or whether he would even _let_ her help him. 

When Garrus stiffened and snapped, “Harkin?”, Tali realized she hadn’t been listening well enough to keep the thread of the conversation. The volus explained, nervously, that ‘Fade’ was the pseudonym of a former C-Sec officer, which explained how the forger knew enough to circumvent C-Sec’s systems. Regardless, they knew where to find him now and left the warehouse, with a last threat to the volus. Garrus took the lead to the transit station. Tali had to stretch her legs to keep up with the taller men. They piled into the transit car in silence.

As Garrus took the controls and piloted them toward the warehouse district, Shepard shifted in his seat. “So, we’re after Harkin. What an ass. Why am I not surprised to find him mixed up in this?”

“Who’s Harkin?” Tali asked. Shepard glanced at Garrus, but he didn’t reply, keeping his eyes on the shifting traffic patterns.

“He was a C-Sec officer I ran into at Chora’s Den before we met you. I was trying to track down Garrus, actually. The guy was a real sleazeball.”

“He was a drunk,” Garrus cut in with a snarl, “he took bribes, let criminals off, sexually harassed his coworkers, and he got protected far too long because he was _human_.” He pulled the skycar out of the traffic lanes, making an approach to the factory district. Shepard grimaced. He knew it was true, that Harkin had been shielded from discipline for years because he was one of the first humans in C-Sec. Anderson had admitted as much to him, years ago. The resentment in Garrus’s voice made him feel both defensive and guilty, though, and he bit back the urge to apologize. He glanced back at Tali, in the rear seat, wishing he could make out her expression. She met his eyes and shrugged, then turned toward the window, looking at the structures below. 

“Is that where we’re going?” she asked, trying to defuse the tension a little.

“Yeah,” Garrus answered. “That’s the foundry there. It sure doesn’t look abandoned, does it?”

Shepard looked out the window. “No. Wonder what kind of operation he’s got in there.”

They set down by a lightly guarded side entrance. It was a good choice; Harkin himself was at the door. Disbelief crossed his face when he saw them. “Shepard?” His expression shifted as he recognized the turian, into something resembling horror. “Don’t just stand there! Shoot them! Shoot them!” Without waiting to see if his guards complied, he turned and bolted into the interior, letting the doors slam shut behind him. 

“Run all you want, Harkin! We’ll find you!” Garrus bellowed after him.

That parting warning was a bit unnecessary, Shepard thought as he dropped into cover behind a crate and drew his assault rifle. Tali had already taken cover on the other side of the door, firing up her combat drone. It took Garrus a moment longer to collect himself; the guards’ shots sparked off his shields before he dropped down beside Tali. In spite of his mood, the three of them had fought together long enough that they fell into sync easily. The guards at the door were no match for them.

As they worked their way into the foundry, through mechs and Blue Suns troopers, Shepard’s worry lessened. He’d been worried that Garrus would be out of control on this one, prone to making mistakes, and his behavior outside the foundry and with the C-Sec officer earlier lent fuel to his anxiety. Once in combat, though, he seemed as disciplined and effective as usual. 

Only in combat, though. When they were no longer shooting things, he reverted to vibrating with suppressed tension, and Shepard’s worry came back, a tension headache starting at the side of his head.

“This is taking too long,” Garrus said, voice tight with frustration.

“Easy,” said Shepard. “We’ll get him.”

They’d broken into an office that overlooked part of the foundry floor. Garrus shot Shepard a hard look. “He’s got to have another exit. He could have gotten out by now.”

Shepard returned, evenly, “Then we’ll track him down. Or hack his records and find Sidonis that way.”

“Harkin was always a pain in the ass, but I’m in no mood for his games. If he doesn’t cooperate, I’ll beat him within an inch of his life.”

Tali, attempting to hack the nearby console, flinched. Shepard said cautiously, “You seem pretty tense, Garrus.”

“Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear. If so, he knows why we’re here, and I don’t want him tipping Sidonis off.”

“Okay.” Shepard kept feeling as though he were talking to... Jack, maybe. Or Grunt. Speaking carefully, voice calm, trying not to provoke an explosion. “What do you plan to do to him if he won’t cooperate?”

“He’s a real criminal now, working for the Blue Suns. I could just shoot him on sight.” Garrus had a faraway look, as though that was an attractive proposition. “But I need him alive, so I won’t do any permanent damage. Just enough to loosen his tongue.”

“You don’t need to hurt him to get what you want.”

“Harkin’s a coward. He’ll talk long before I can really hurt him.” Shepard pressed his lips together. He got this mindset, all too well. The conversation made him feel as though he was back on the street, gearing up to intimidate some punk who’d crossed the Reds. 

Tali had been fidgeting more and more during their conversation, and now whirled to face them. “And what about Sidonis? Are you still planning on killing him once we find him?”

Garrus turned toward her slowly. “That’s the plan, Tali. It’ll be quick and painless. Unlike everyone he betrayed.”

“And how is that going to make things right?”

“I know you don’t approve.” He glanced back in Shepard’s direction. “I’m guessing you don’t, either. But I have to do this.” 

Tali bit her lip. His voice sounded strained, to her ear. She half wished she’d turned on the voice analysis program, but she hadn’t wanted the extra distraction displayed inside her helmet. “Why?” she asked quietly. “Why do you have to do this? Help me understand.”

His hands tightened into fists, and he drew a deep breath. “They depended on me, and I failed them. This is... the last thing I can do for them. I’ll pull the trigger, and I’ll live with the consequences. All I’m asking is that you help me find him.”

Tali was about to speak again when they all noticed a flash of movement on the factory floor below. Tali and Shepard flattened themselves against the wall on either side of the window. Garrus dropped below it, reaching for his rifle. “Did you see that?”

They had a brief, whispered discussion about Harkin’s likely defenses, and then moved out, with Shepard taking point, as usual. 

#

Shepard hadn’t much liked Harkin when he first met him back at Chora’s Den. He liked him less now that he’d moved from corrupt cop to outright crook. He felt a moment’s satisfaction watching Garrus casually seize the older man and haul him across the room. The knee in the groin made him wince, though (and he _knew_ Garrus must be well aware of how much that would hurt) and the boot on the throat was really excessive. Shepard reached for Garrus’s elbow, but, to his surprise, Tali reached him first, tapping the turian’s arm. Garrus glanced at her and backed off. 

Even then, Harkin couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Terminus really changed you, huh Garrus?”

“No,” said Garrus. Shepard blinked. He mostly just sounded... tired, like the anger was draining away. “But Sidonis... opened my eyes. Make the call.”

Harkin limped over to his console and made the arrangements. Garrus drew his sidearm, looking it over appraisingly. Shepard did catch his attention that time, and shook his head. They needed to turn Harkin over to C-Sec and expose his whole operation, not just kill him. Garrus gave him a slight nod in return. Shepard relaxed; which meant he was a little too slow to stop Garrus from shooting Harkin in the leg as they departed, offering to “slow him down a little.” Shepard reached for Garrus’s arm just a split second too late, and Harkin fell, clutching his leg and shouting. _Complacent_ , Shepard thought grimly. _You thought you had this sorted out_. He bit back the sharp things he wanted to say and waited until they’d gotten well away from the foundry. When the skycar was in sight, he grabbed Garrus by the shoulder and turned him so they were facing each other. He said, “This isn’t Omega. There’s actually law, and law enforcement, around here. You didn’t need to do that.”

Garrus shrugged off Shepard’s grip and glared down at him in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of his own smaller, softer physique, and that Garrus had just shown how well he could incapacitate a male human. He growled, “Harkin’s a menace. How many criminals has he helped escape justice? I don’t need him tipping off Sidonis, too.”

Shepard took care to breathe slowly and evenly. “Which is why we’ll alert Bailey to his whole operation. He won’t be able to escape C-Sec now.”

“Fine,” snapped Garrus, and strode toward the vehicle.

Tali had already taken the driver’s seat. She refused to relinquish it even as Garrus approached; he grumbled something under his breath and slammed himself into the passenger seat, leaving Shepard to take the back. “I know Citadel traffic patterns better,” he said as she took them up.

“You’re too worked up, and Shepard is a terrible driver,” she said.

“I am not,” Shepard muttered.

“Where are we going, Garrus?”

“Orbital Lounge.” He gave her directions.

The silence seethed. After a few minutes, Tali ventured cautiously, “I’m worried about you, Garrus.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“I don’t think you are. I can understand that you’re upset, but this isn’t like you.”

He made a noise, and it took Shepard a moment to identify it as a laugh. “Upset. Yeah. You know, it’s getting tiresome how both of you are so certain you know what I’m like. I don’t know what you think that is. I’ve killed people for lesser crimes than Harkin’s, or L- Sidonis’s. I’ve always hated injustice. The thought that he could get away with this—” His voice cracked, ever so slightly. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Shepard reached forward from the back seat and wrapped his fingers around Garrus’s arm, wishing he could actually touch him instead of the unyielding armored surface. Tali said, softly, “You don’t have to go through with this.”

“No one’s going to bring him to justice if I don’t.” He took a breath. “Shepard, you said you’d help me.”

“I will.” _I am_ , Shepard thought, but wasn’t sure of the thought. He offered, “Let me talk to him.” 

Garrus sighed. “Fine. But you’re not going to change my mind. I don’t care what his reasons were.”

They touched down, gently. Shepard wondered if Tali had taken a longer route than was strictly necessary. This was it; the moment felt too charged, somehow raw and unhealed in a way that had become painful for all of them. He cleared his throat. “What do you need me to do, Garrus?”

“Just get him in position and keep him talking. I need to set up. I can get a clear shot from over... there. I’ll let you know when I’ve got him in my sights.”

Garrus got out. Shepard sighed. Every part of him felt heavy and tired. “It is like talking to a wall,” he muttered.

Tali shook her head. “I don’t know. I think he’s afraid of something.”

“What makes you think that?”

She fidgeted. “I have this... turian vocal analysis program. I wasn’t running it earlier today, but I have been in the car. But that’s not the point. The point is, what is he worried about?”

“I don’t know. Missing the shot? Sidonis getting away?”

Tali made a frustrated noise. “I think it’s more complicated than that, Shepard. Has he talked about what happened on Omega with you?”

Shepard tried to recall what Garrus had told him about the last two years. “No. Not really. At least, not in much detail.”

Tali was silent for a moment. Then she asked, calmly, “Do you two actually talk at all, or do you just have sex?”

“Tali!” Shepard felt obscurely shocked, and then didn’t know why. She was an adult, after all, and also his lover. He wanted to argue with her accusation, but found, with a certain degree of embarrassment, that he really couldn’t.

Tali snorted. “I’m just saying. You’ve been disappearing together for weeks, but you don’t seem to have any idea what he’s thinking.”

“He’s not exactly forthcoming with his feelings. You should know that as well as I do.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a sigh. “I guess you’d better go.”

#

Watching Shepard go, Tali bit her lip. She felt less certain now, less resolved than she had when they started this mission. Hearing the anguish and weariness in Garrus’s voice just made her more worried and wore down her conviction that what he wanted was wrong. What had happened seemed to be tearing him up, and maybe it really would be better to let him deal with it in his own way. She shifted in her seat. She still didn’t like it, though; she didn’t like his ruthlessness regarding Harkin, and she hated the thought of murder, or execution, or however one wanted to label what was about to happen. It was just hard to stick to principle in the face of her friend’s grief and pain. They’d done what she wanted, back on the Flotilla, she reminded herself... but keeping back the evidence of her father’s experiments hadn’t harmed anyone but herself. 

#

So it came down to this: Shepard stood with his head between a sniper and his target. He took a deep breath and tried to assure himself that Garrus wouldn’t risk his life, even as Garrus snapped at him over the comm to move. 

The turian in front of him was a little shorter than Garrus, and his clothes hung on him as if he’d recently lost weight. His eyes flicked from side to side and his mandibles quivered as he said, incredulous, “Is this some kind of a joke?”

 _Buy some time_ , Tali had said. The only thing Shepard could think to do at this point was to block the shot as long as he could. When Sidonis moved, Shepard moved with him. He said, with all the conviction he could muster, “I am the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head.”

Sidonis’s shoulders slumped. Shepard regarded him sharply as he muttered vague excuses. His own problems. Shepard had grown up in a gang. If his own experience was anything to judge from, someone had caught up to Sidonis, leaned on him, threatened him, maybe roughed him up, and he’d panicked. Understandable. Forgivable? Shepard wasn’t sure. He couldn’t say whether Garrus would have been able to deal with the situation, if he’d known. He looked at the man before him with a mixture of anger, contempt, and pity. Sidonis wasn’t a hardened criminal. He wasn’t callous enough to take the deaths he’d caused in stride. But he was still the man whose actions had nearly resulted in Garrus’s death. Sidonis looked like he was half hoping for his own demise, miserable in his life but too afraid to end it. Shepard clenched his teeth against the crawling feeling on the back of his neck and the irritated voice in his ear. 

#

Garrus could see it now: Tali and Shepard had been working on him all day. He should have seen it when Tali accompanied them on this mission, since he already knew she didn’t like it. Now Shepard was deliberately blocking his shot, hoping for... what? Did he intend to guard Sidonis with his body for the rest of his life? Rage and frustration curdled in his gut.

“Move out of the way. You’re in my shot.”

Through the scope, he saw Shepard stiffen, but he didn’t _fucking move_. Garrus almost had enough room. He thought about firing, visualized the trajectory, past Shepard’s shoulder and into Sidonis’s head. But, if Shepard moved even a little, it would tear through his armor, leaving red human blood on the ground... _no. Unacceptable risk._ There was a grating sound, and Garrus realized it came from his teeth grinding together. He deliberately relaxed his jaw. He was gripping the rifle too tightly, as well, and loosened his hold.

Shepard kept talking. Always talking. What the hell did he think he was going to get this time? He could charm just about anyone into doing just about anything, but what did he think he was going to charm Sidonis into doing that could possibly make things right?

He stared through the scope, past Shepard’s ear and shoulder, at Lantar Sidonis. The magnification gave him the illusion of being right there, in Shepard’s place, or standing just behind him. Lantar didn’t look well, he found himself thinking. His eyes were sunken, and his facial plates looked a little rough, as if he hadn’t been taking care of himself. He was thinner than he’d been, too. Garrus shook himself, furious with his own mind. He wasn’t supposed to feel _concern_ for the treacherous coward. It was no longer his responsibility to tell the man to get some sleep and a square meal so he’d be fit to fight.

When he’d first joined up, Lantar had reminded Garrus a bit of himself. Younger, disillusioned by mercenary work, looking to make a difference. A good shot, and eager to learn. He’d learned a lot in the time he’d been with the team. Garrus had been trying like hell to forget what he’d been like, back then. He’d deliberately made him think of the man as _Sidonis_ rather than _Lantar_. Trying to distance himself.

Now, the distance was... not enough. He closed his eyes, but he could still hear the voice over the comm, with its familiar colonial accent. But it was all stammering, hesitation, inarticulate excuses, his harmonics thick with shame and regret. That voice had once been bright with enthusiasm and laughter. Remembering it brought to mind ten other voices. They all seemed equally far away. He knew then that that version of Lantar Sidonis was dead and gone, as surely as the others. As he listened to the man talk, for the first time, it occurred to him that a bullet in the skull might be a mercy. And a moment later, he knew he couldn't do it. This life was one he couldn't take, even if Sidonis might prefer it.

Shepard was talking again, but he didn’t need Shepard to tell him what he already knew. “Just tell him to go,” he said, hearing the fatigue in his own voice. Justice, revenge, obligation, it didn't matter now. Distantly, he heard Sidonis promising to make amends. 

When he finally descended from his perch and returned to the skycar, Shepard was already there. Tali had gotten out and stood next to him, twining her fingers together. Garrus held up a hand to forestall them. “I know you want to talk about this, but I don’t. Not yet.”

“Garrus—” Tali started.

“That goes for both of you,” he interrupted. “Just... give me some time, all right?”


	10. Chapter 10

What Garrus needed, wanted, was some quiet time to think. Time to unbury all the things he’d been deliberately trying not to think about, really consider the mass of contradictions and complications that his life had become since he left C-Sec more than two years ago.

 _This isn’t you._ Their certainty forced some self-examination. What did they know that he didn't?

Had it been his choice, or had the two of them worn him down?

The battery was a good, quiet place to think. He even got some work done. 

He was startled when Kelly Chambers dropped by with a meal, cheerfully telling him that Shepard had asked her to drop it off since Garrus was going to be working, and shouldn’t otherwise be disturbed.

He was faintly surprised that neither Shepard nor Tali burst into the battery, or his room, that day; but he appreciated that they’d taken his request seriously, and given him the time to think. 

He thought about Lantar Sidonis. 

About what he’d been and done on Omega.

About what he and Shepard and Tali had been doing.

About who and what he intended to be, going forward.

#

Tali lasted two days, and even that was a struggle.

They returned from the Citadel in strained silence. When they came through the airlock, Joker wheeled around, and whatever quip he’d been about to make died at the sight of the three of them. “So, uh, how’d it go?” he said.

Garrus strode toward the elevator without acknowledging him in any way. “That good, huh?” the pilot muttered.

Shepard sighed. “Just get us out of here, okay, Joker?”

“Sure thing.”

Tali headed into the CIC while Shepard and Joker discussed their next destination. She was tempted to follow Garrus, but she hesitated, watching him storm toward the elevator. Kelly, from her workstation, and Thane, just leaving the armory, both looked toward Garrus and seemed to freeze at whatever they saw in his face. He boarded the elevator alone. Shepard came up behind Tali as the doors shut. Tali noticed that most of the crew in the CIC were resolutely focusing on their consoles; the rest, including Kelly and Thane, now turned their eyes toward Shepard.

“Commander,” said Kelly, sounding nervous, “is everything all right?”

“It’s fine, Kelly. Any messages?”

“No, sir.” 

She was being a little more formal than sometimes, Tali noticed. Thane said nothing, but watched closely as Shepard and Tali joined him in waiting for the elevator. She couldn’t help feeling a little scrutinized herself. She was about to join Thane in the elevator, nonetheless, when Shepard said, “Actually, Tali, could you come upstairs with me? Please?”

“Oh... sure.” She nodded to Thane, and waited with Shepard for the elevator to return for them, trying to shake her suspicion that all the humans in the room were staring at her back. 

Once the doors had shut, leaving them with a little privacy, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Shepard, can’t I just go down...”

“He asked for some time alone. We should really give him that much.” Shepard rubbed the back of his neck. 

Tali bit her lip. She hated the feeling of squirming tension, but Shepard was right. “Okay.” 

She paced around the cabin while Shepard stripped off his armor, watching the fish flit about in the blue-glowing aquarium, or looking at the display case full of ship models—a number of them with slight inaccuracies. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything. It was just as well she wasn’t down in engineering trying to work, she told herself. She accepted the drink Shepard handed her, but fidgeted with it rather than attaching it to her suit. Shepard downed a small glass of whatever he was drinking, poured a second, and sank down on the couch. 

Everything felt all wrong. The couch seemed far too large and the room far too empty with just the two of them there. Garrus was supposed to be here drinking the dextro liquor with her. “I thought things would be all right,” she said. “If he just didn’t…” she trailed off. She hadn’t really thought everything through; somehow she’d thought they could change his mind and alter his plans without... well, without something like _this_ happening. 

Shepard ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in odd ways. “Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe he’ll come around. I just hope we didn’t push too hard.”

Tali stopped pacing and looked down at Shepard, noting how tired he looked. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “This is my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No, you were right. Ethically speaking. It’s just tricky with people you know.” He managed a smile. “I mean, I was willing to use my Spectre status to cover it, but I’m just as glad I don't have to explain murdering a guy in the middle of the Citadel to anyone.”

She leaned over and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you, too.”

His smile became a little stronger. “Yeah. When it comes to you and Garrus, it’s hard to be sure I’m doing the right thing.”

She blinked, a little surprised. “Oh?”

“Like with your trial. I only withheld the evidence because you asked me to, and even afterwards I wasn’t sure if it was really the best thing to do.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she said softly.

“Sit with me?” he suggested, with a gentle tug on her arm. She settled herself in his lap, somewhat hesitantly, trying to find the most comfortable arrangement for their limbs. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest. She twined hers around his neck and leaned her head against him. “He’ll come around,” Shepard said, and she wished she could feel his breath against her bare skin. 

She sighed. “I hope so.” How much time should we give him, she wanted to ask, but knew it was a bad idea. She liked having things quantifiable and clean and _fixable_ , but she knew that emotions didn’t work that way. She tried to relax. It was comforting, at least, to be with Shepard, although neither of them was in the mood to do more than sit and talk together. 

She had a terrible time concentrating on work the next day. She couldn’t quite shed the fear that she’d upset her friend to the point where he’d do... what? Leave the ship? Cut her out of his life? Something terrible, at any rate. The chat window on her workstation where she usually exchanged messages with Garrus remained resolutely closed. She installed a part the wrong way. Fortunately it was Gabby who caught her error, not Ken; Gabby quietly asked if she was all right, where Ken would never have let her hear the end of it. Shepard, meanwhile, took Jacob and Jack with him for some raid on a mercenary base, and then the party got stranded in the shuttle overnight by a storm, so she couldn’t spend the night cycle with him. As the mess area emptied out after the end-shift meal, Kasumi found her staring up the corridor at the closed door to the main battery. 

“Hey, Tali.” Kasumi dropped into the seat next to her. “Everything okay?”

Tali jumped. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Kasumi glanced down the corridor toward the closed door herself. “You seem a little on edge, since yesterday.”

Tali flinched and looked warily at the other woman. “What do you know about yesterday? Did someone tell you…” she trailed off, her mind racing to think what tales might have been told.

“I don’t know much. I talked to Joker, and he said all three of you came back looking like someone had shot your puppy.”

Tali frowned as her VI translator defined the word for her: _juvenile canine, kept as a pet by humans_. The idea of keeping a pet was alien in itself; what a waste of resources. “I don’t understand.”

Kasumi smiled. “It just means you seemed upset. And you, Tali, still seem upset. Why don’t you come into the observation lounge with me and tell me about it?”

Tali rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

“Okay, come with me and we’ll find something to take your mind off things, then.”

Tali didn’t think she wanted to talk about it, but a few drinks in she found herself telling Kasumi the whole business: about her and Shepard and Garrus, about their argument on the Citadel, about him wanting time alone. She had the pleasure of surprising the usually unflappable thief, but almost immediately she worried that she’d said too much. She swore Kasumi to secrecy before stumbling off to her own quarters.

The next day was really no better. She still had trouble keeping her mind on her work, and kept distracting herself by looking up random information on the extranet. Finally Tali couldn’t contain herself any longer. Finding the main battery empty, she made her way to Garrus’s quarters. She only let herself hesitate for a moment before knocking on the door.

#

Garrus was sprawled on the bed, considering. Impulsiveness, he’d been told time and again, was one of his major character flaws. He’d lost track of the number of times his father and various superiors had lectured him on that subject. And yet, in the last months, impulse had driven him to reach out to Shepard and to Tali, and to spare Lantar Sidonis. Mistakes, all of them, by any traditional turian standard, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of them. Even the third. Going back further, he couldn’t even regret the decision to go to Omega, although he knew he’d been too wrecked by grief and anger to think clearly at the time. Despite the consequences, he wouldn’t want to give up those years on Omega; he couldn’t imagine what he would be like now if he’d chosen to stick it out on the Citadel.

There was a knock on his door. “Yeah, come in,” he called, sitting up and disengaging the door lock. 

It was Tali. She entered and hesitated as the door shut behind her, twisting her hands together. “Hey, Tali,” he said, with a slight smile. “I thought you might be by sooner.”

“Shepard said I should wait,” she said. “I—is it okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah.” He gestured at the only chair in the room. “Have a seat.”

She came in and perched on the chair, all but wringing her hands. Garrus took in her tense posture, and became... not tense himself, precisely, but more alert. “Tali? What’s wrong?”

She shifted her weight, seemingly unable to find a comfortable way to sit. “I came here to ask about you,” she protested.

“But you need to say something, so go ahead.”

“Well... okay.” She hesitated, drawing breath, and when she finally spoke it all came out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t let it go, with Sidonis, and I got Shepard to agree with me, but then I started wondering if I was right, after all. I was worried about you, I hated seeing you so tense and angry, and I was afraid you’d regret it if you killed him. But now I’m worried about... us, I guess. Are you angry at us?” She swallowed. “Do you want to... end things?”

He leaned forward and caught her hands in his. “No, and no. Tali, I’m sorry I made you worry. I just really needed to get some distance and think, uninterrupted. I made the choice to spare Sidonis, and I’m not sorry I did. But there were a lot of things I needed to think about.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she sat back in the chair. “Okay. Like what?”

He squeezed her hands, then released them and leaned back, sighing. “Where do we start? So much has happened, Tali. It’s really only been a few weeks since I was on Omega with the rest of my team. And then they were gone, and I thought that was going to be the end for me, too. And then, well.” He spread his hands. “Shepard was back, and here I was with his ship and his mission, just like old times. Except for Cerberus. And this.” He pointed at the right side of his face. “And then Shepard, and you... there have been a lot of things I was trying not to think about. Sidonis reappearing made me... re-evaluate.”

Tali nodded, slowly. “I see what you mean. There’s... well, there’s been a lot for me, too.” She turned her head away, and he guessed she was thinking about her father and exile, and maybe about the disasters on Haestrom and Freedom’s Progress.

“I know,” he said quietly, and she turned back toward him. “Listen, Tali... are you sure about what we’re doing? I worry that we’ve rushed into things.” His worries were far beyond that, really. Two days of reflection had made it clear that he was committed, to both Shepard and Tali, beyond any easy way to go back. They were far beyond casual, beyond just sex, into a space where emotions were involved, full of invisible snares and tripwires. He already knew how much difficulty he and Shepard had understanding each other at this level, and with Tali in the mix, too... Every bit of training that had been drummed into him told him that they’d been foolish to let it come to this, that they were self-indulgent and taking unnecessary risks on the brink of a major mission. It was one thing to release some tension; it was quite another to introduce this kind of emotional entanglement.

And yet he couldn’t see how they could have done anything else. How _he_ could have done anything else.

Tali sat forward in the chair. “I thought you said you didn’t want to end things, Garrus. Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t,” he said firmly, although he couldn’t quite shake the worry, or the hitch in his voice that went with it. Of all the things he might worry about, he’d concluded that there were only two prospects he really feared: that he’d make mistakes and fail _them_ , as he’d done on Omega; or that one or both of them would simply... walk away. “I want to make sure you know what you want, and what you’re getting into.”

“What I’m getting into? I’m not a child. I chose this, and I don’t regret it.”

“And what is it you’d say we’re doing?”

Tali flung out her hands. “Enjoying the company of our closest friends? Having some fun with people we trust?”

Restless energy drove him up and off the bed, pacing in the narrow confines of the room. “Having some fun? Is that all this is to you? Because it’s a lot more than that to me.”

Having reached the end of the room, he wheeled, to find Tali in front of him. He stopped, startled, and she reached for him, put her hand on the back of his neck and gently pulled his head down until his brow bumped against her faceplate. He froze in place, hardly breathing as he looked through the violet plate into her eyes. “It’s a lot more than that to me, too,” she said.

“Tali?” he said, uncertainly.

“I can do research, too, you know. I know what I’m doing.” She hesitated. “I think it means more to Shepard, too, but it’s hard to tell...”

“I know,” he sighed, and frowned. “Wait. You came in here all worried. Have you talked to Shepard about this?”

Tali tilted her head sideways. “No... he’s made himself kind of scarce the last couple of days.” 

“Let’s go find him. There are some things I’d like to talk to both of you about.” 

#

Shepard thought he was willing to wait it out. He was capable of waiting. He had the patience to wait for the right moment to act; it was one of the things that made him good at his job. 

This time... this time, he’d wait, because Garrus had asked for time. But he wasn’t sure how long he could make himself wait. 

He distracted himself with work. He threw himself into mineral scanning with more concentration than usual. He jumped at the chance to go take out a minor merc base, with Jacob and Jack in tow. He was even a little bit grateful for the storm that forced them to bunk down in the shuttle overnight, because it kept him from stewing in his quarters. They didn’t get back until midday, and then he had to shower and write the mission report and make the usual rounds and all the other assorted odds and ends of his day. He’d only just returned to the loft when the door chime sounded.

“Yeah, come in,” he called, starting up from the chair. When the door whisked open to reveal both Tali and Garrus, for a moment he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or alarmed. “Are you all right?” he asked cautiously, looking from one to theother.

“Yes,” said Tali.

“Yeah,” said Garrus. “I’m fine. I just needed to... figure some things out, I guess. I’m sorry if that caused you any concern.”

Shepard relaxed a little. “I—” He couldn’t deny that he’d been worried, though he hadn’t let himself give those worries specific shape. “It’s okay. It was a rough mission. If you needed to take some time, I get that.”

“Yeah,” said Garrus again. “I needed to think about a lot of things, though, not just Sidonis. I think we should talk, all three of us.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s always a dangerous conversational opener.”

Garrus’s mandibles flicked out into a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, well. Sometimes it’s true.”

“Okay. Why don’t we sit down, then?”

They took seats on the couch, but Garrus fidgeted and stood up again almost immediately. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m a little restless.”

Shepard leaned back, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. “That’s fine. So... what’s on your mind?” He was half curious, half afraid to know just what Garrus had been working over for the last two days. Garrus looked... well, better. He didn’t have the coiled intensity of a few days earlier, and he certainly wasn’t radiating anger in that frankly unsettling way. Instead, he seemed nervous, almost diffident, and that wasn’t entirely characteristic either.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fiddled with his collar, and said, “I... Look, Shepard, Tali. Are we crazy?” 

Shepard looked at Tali and back to Garrus. He had to fight the urge to make an immediate flip response, forcing himself to really think for a moment. Tali piped up before he did. “Probably?”

“At least a little bit,” Shepard added. “Is that a problem?”

Garrus laughed, and Shepard could relax a bit more. “Look,” Garrus said again, “it’s just that this—” he moved one hand in a circle “—the three of us, it’s not going to be easy, if we’re going to stick it out.”

“Why?” asked Tali. “Why shouldn’t it be easy? We’re friends, we know and trust each other. If there’s also attraction, or... deeper feelings... why shouldn’t we act on them?”

Shepard shifted in his seat, remembering his and Garrus’s earlier arguments. He knew Garrus had a point.

Garrus was already answering. “If I’m not mistaken, we all three come from species best known for _pair_ -bonding. And we _are_ of three different species. There are a lot of things we don’t know about each other, which could easily cause problems. And then there’s the question of how the rest of the galaxy is going to see us. I don’t think our... whatever we are... is going to be simply accepted by any of our peoples.”

“I’m already an exile,” said Tali. “The Admiralty Board can’t do anything else to me—”

Garrus interrupted her. “And what if the Admiralty Board offered to reverse your sentence of exile, on condition that you come back to the Flotilla and marry some nice quarian guy?”

“I—” she shook her head. “The Admiralty Board used me for their own political ends. If they called me tomorrow with that offer, I’d tell them to go hang.”

Garrus nodded. “Okay. And what about five years from now, or ten? When this isn’t so new any more, and the only quarians you’ve talked to in years have been kids on their Pilgrimage?”

Tali actually bounced in her seat and glared up at Garrus, her eyes easily visible even through her mask. “I am not just here for the novelty value! And we may not have five or ten years! Shepard always goes his own way, and since when do you care what people think of you?”

Garrus paced. “Yeah, I don’t fit into turian society very well. I’ve had my share of disagreements, starting with my father and running through every turian superior I’ve ever had. But that’s not a very comfortable position to be in, Tali. That is exactly what I mean when I say this isn’t going to be easy. People are going to judge us. You won’t just be Admiral Zorah’s only daughter, and an exile, but also the woman who spends more time with a human and a turian than her own people.”

Shepard’s thoughts had been running along similar lines. Tali was right, he had an independent streak, which extended to his personal life. But he’d also long since recognized that those facts colored his reputation. Tali was bristling, and he cleared his throat, hoping to alleviate the mood. “I get what you’re saying, Garrus. People can be judgmental, but it’s possible to work around that kind of thing. Sometimes there are even advantages. Honestly, I’m not sure I would have been tapped for Spectre if I didn’t have a reputation for getting along well with aliens. And yeah, humans usually pair off, but there’s a sizable minority of people involved in, uh, alternative arrangements, so most people are at least used to the idea.” Although he knew perfectly well that there were still a lot of challenges facing people in situations like theirs.

“I actually worry about you the most, Shepard.” Garrus stopped pacing and looked at him earnestly. “It’s been hard enough to get people to take you seriously. I saw on the Citadel that human xenophiles can face a lot of hostility from other humans. Your species and mine have a tense relationship politically, and a close association with a quarian is not going to do you any favors with the Council. Tali, I’m not saying that’s right, but it’s a political fact, for the moment.”

Tali took in a breath, sharply, and then exhaled loudly without saying anything. Shepard fidgeted in the silence. It was like Garrus, somehow, to be the one who was brutally realistic about the social and political situation they were in. “I don’t care,” he burst out, before even consciously deciding to speak. “If the Council wants to think I’m crazy, they’re going to do that regardless of my involvement with you two. Likewise, if the Alliance wants to consider me a traitor, they’re going to do that regardless of my personal life, too. Hell, hooking up with Miranda might look worse to them, no matter how human she is. Not that I was going to,” he added hastily, as Tali tilted her head toward him. “I’m not saying I want to make a big deal of this, and appear on the cover of _Xenophiles Monthly_ , or whatever. I’d rather be discreet about my private life. But if there are political or social consequences, I don’t care. The two of you are more important to me than that, and my personal life shouldn’t matter to the rest of the galaxy.”

He saw Garrus relax, some of the tension leaving his tall frame. “That’s very turian of you,” he said.

Tali seemed to relax a little, too, leaning back into the couch. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe I wasn’t really thinking about the bigger picture, but I don’t care, either. I’m not interested in other people’s opinions of us. But! I don’t love your asking me hypothetical questions like that. I’m not going to just drop everything and run back to the Flotilla on a whim. It feels like you’re manufacturing reasons we shouldn’t stay together,” she said sternly, pointing at Garrus. “I would like to point out that you were the one who told me the three of should stick together, Garrus.” 

He nodded. “I know I did. I meant it, and I still do. I’m not saying any of this because I want out. I’m—well, I’m in. I’m committed, whatever happens. I just think... I don’t know about you, but I know I jumped into things without really thinking them through. If things are actually going to work with the three of us, I think we need to be honest with each other, about who we are and what we want, and we need to be ready to deal with consequences we can anticipate.” 

Shepard drummed his fingers on the couch, a little nervous about where this might be going. “Okay. so you think we should be prepared for some social and political blowback. Was there something else?”

Garrus sighed. “Yeah. Like I said, we know each other, but we may not always know each other that well. I’m not saying we should tell our whole life stories here, but... when we were on the Citadel, you were both telling me I wasn’t being like myself, and I couldn’t figure out what you were talking about. It was... for me, it wasn’t about revenge—well, it wasn’t _just_ about revenge—it was a duty. I was their leader, I screwed up by trusting him, and it was my responsibility to fix that mistake and punish him for his.” He stepped around the table and dropped onto the couch between them, some of the restless energy seeming to leave him.

Shepard said, “So if something happens to this team, it’s my job to go kill whoever’s responsible?”

“Well, yeah. More or less. In turian thinking, anyway.” Garrus added quietly, “Wouldn’t you? If one of the team turned on the rest of us?”

Shepard exhaled. “Well, I’d sure as hell want to. I’m aware that makes me a fucking hypocrite.”

Garrus shook his head. “I’m not sitting here to criticize you. I could have taken the shot, in the end, and I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you?” Tali asked.

Garrus sighed again and rubbed his forehead. “Maybe because, when it comes down to it, I’m just not a very good turian. Maybe because I still felt a responsibility for him. I don’t know. Mostly what I know is that I couldn’t do it, in the end.”

“It’s different when you’re looking at people you know,” said Shepard.

Tali shifted a little closer to Garrus on the couch. “Garrus, I didn’t think you should kill him, but I was also worried to see you that angry. You were snapping at everyone, you beat that man Harkin pretty badly. I know that kind of anger isn’t really you, you’re usually much calmer.”

Garrus said, carefully, “But it is me, Tali. Part of me, anyway. You need to accept that—both of you—if we’re... going anywhere with this. I have done things you probably wouldn’t like. When I was in C-Sec, I was an honest officer, but not always...” he hesitated. 

Shepard supplied, “You were rough. On occasion.” He managed a half-smile. “I read the form P-4520s.”

“Yeah. I was hard on suspects, when I thought I had reason to be. And on Omega... if you didn’t like the way I was the other day, then... I don’t know what you’d think of what I did on Omega.” He was silent for a moment. “I definitely don’t want to talk about all of that right now. But I spent a lot of time being angry, the last two years. So, um. If any of that bothers you, now would be a good time to tell me.”

Shepard noticed that Garrus’s hands had curled into fists against the couch, and he’d tensed slightly, as if bracing for a blow. _What?_ he wondered, bemused for a moment, and then he figured it out. He leaned over and put his hand over Garrus’s. Tali must have had the same realization, because she slid over on the couch and leaned into his other side.

“Hey,” said Shepard. “I’m not in a position to judge. I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of. I told Tali this before. When I was in a gang, back on Earth, I beat up a lot of people, killed a few. Generally not for good reasons. There’s been plenty of other things in my career I could second-guess. I trust that you had your reasons, and I’m not going to hold any of that against you.”

#

Garrus relaxed. This was the moment he’d been dreading—and he really should tell them the whole Omega story, one day—but the rejection or recrimination he’d been worried about wasn’t happening. In fact, Tali was all but burrowing into his side, and when he lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, she sighed and snuggled even closer. On his other side, Shepard was squeezing his hand; his mouth was turned up in a weak smile, but his eyes were serious. “Okay,” Garrus said softly. “Good. I, uh, was a little worried.”

Shepard smiled a little more. “Garrus, I was worried you were pissed off enough to consider leaving entirely.”

The idea was incomprehensible, even though Tali had said something similar. “Oh. No. I wouldn’t. Leave the mission, or... uh, I wouldn’t leave you. Either of you.”

“I wouldn’t, either,” said Shepard. “I mean, I told you before that I wasn’t sure about long-term, but... that’s getting easier to think about. No matter who disapproves of us.”

Tali sighed, sounding exasperated. “Keelah, you two are _impossible_. I am not going to abandon you if you do something I don’t like, either, Garrus, because I love you. I love both of you, and if we are supposed to be honest with each other, maybe you could both stop avoiding that word so hard.”

“I’m not—” Garrus and Shepard said and broke off, at nearly the same time.

“This is what I’m talking about,” she said. “The concept really should translate well enough.”

Garrus laughed, trying to ignore his pounding heart. “Okay. Maybe you have a point. I love you too, Tali.”

“There, was that so hard? Shepard?”

Shepard was silent for long enough that Garrus turned toward him, and Tali lifted her head to peer across at him. He was staring down, and his grip on Garrus’s hand had become almost painfully tight. He looked up, dark eyes intense. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course I do. I haven’t had a family since I was a kid, until now.”

Garrus’s breath caught. He had just an inkling of what that meant for Shepard to say. He nodded, in acknowledgment, and then couldn’t resist lightening the moment: “You didn’t actually say the word—”

Shepard interrupted. “I’m tired of talking now. I’d much rather show you how I feel.” He pulled himself close and kissed the side of Garrus’s neck, unerringly finding the right places to press his warm, soft lips, alternating with tiny nips that made him gasp.

“Good idea,” said Tali, sliding one arm around his waist and the other hand up the inside of his leg. All the emotional intensity of the last days coalesced into a rush of heat and longing. Garrus threw his head back and closed his eyes, his body responding insistently to the two sets of hands exploring him, neck and chest and waist and thigh.

After a few moments, Tali said, breathlessly: “I need to get this suit off.” 

Garrus opened his eyes. “Are you sure?” he said with some difficulty.

“ _Yes_ ,” she said, sounding as urgent as he felt.

Shepard chuckled, disentangling himself and easing off the couch. “I’ll help.”

The catches of his shirt were mostly undone already, thanks to Shepard’s clever fingers. He slipped it off, tossed it aside, and yanked off his boots and pants, while Shepard and Tali took off her suit, piece by piece. It took longer, giving him some time to appreciate her gradually revealed form. He touched her skin as the suit came off, lightly, and she shivered at the stimulation. Once naked, she hesitated. Shepard wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing the back of her neck, and then he lifted her off her feet and passed her into Garrus’s arms. “Go ahead,” he said with a half smile, stepping back and starting to strip off his own clothes.

Garrus didn’t need much encouragement, as Tali straddled his lap and tentatively put her arms around his shoulders. He pulled her closer, running his hands up and down her back, and leaned down to lick her breasts, remembering how she’d liked that before. She shuddered, her breath hitching, and squirmed closer to him. She was maddeningly close and warm, her hips jerking against his almost instinctively. This would work better on the bed, he decided, and stood, scooping her up with him. She clutched his shoulders for security and pressed her face against his as he made the few steps to the bed. He laid her down gently, following her down as she relaxed into the mattress. She pulled him against her and pressed her lips against his face, soft and eager. He trailed his talons ever so lightly over her body, careful not to break the skin, drawing spirals up her breasts to the tender peaks. She muttered something in her own language that didn’t translate, arching into him frantically, so he pressed closer, rubbing his arousal against the juncture of her thighs. She opened her legs in response, and he pressed himself into her, reveling in the sheer sensation of slick heat. He wanted to make it last, so he moved slowly, sure, long strokes, delighting in how she moaned and writhed, her muscles flexing around him. 

Shepard joined them then, leaning against Garrus’s back, all smooth skin over muscle, warm and smelling of sweat. He slid his tongue up the back of Garrus’s neck, and Garrus rumbled contentedly. This was exactly what he wanted, at the moment, both of them pressed as close to him as possible, not driven away by his actions, as he’d feared. Shepard slipped a hand between his legs, questing, already slick. Garrus held still, buried deeply in Tali’s body, waiting for the now-familiar sensation of Shepard stretching him, first with his fingers and then with his shaft.

It was familiar, but no less good for that; and the combined sensations of the three together were still new and intoxicating. Warm skin all around him, the air rich with the scent of their arousal; Shepard thick and deep inside him, and Tali tight around him. There was something deeply satisfying about being in the center of their connection, as Tali had been the last time. As they began moving, cautiously at first, then with more confidence, the pleasures built up: Shepard’s breath on the back of his neck, the exquisite friction of Shepard sliding in and out of him, as he moved in and out of Tali; her soft moans, which grew higher in pitch, until she was practically squeaking each time their combined movement pushed him deeper into her. She all but wailed as she finally reached her climax, tremors running through her body, clutching at both of them, trying to pull them closer yet. The sudden clenching of her muscles around him brought Garrus over the edge as well, white heat coursing through him, and it took an effort to keep from going limp on top of her. Shepard took a few moments longer before spending himself with a groan, resting his head against Garrus’s back and reaching down to hold Tali’s hand. 

It was some time—Garrus wasn’t sure how long—before they could bring themselves to separate and clean up, and then Shepard flopped onto the bed on his back with a sigh, still completely naked. Tali stood looking at her disassembled suit for a moment and then climbed onto the bed with Shepard. He folded his arms around her, as she nestled herself against his side. Garrus stood back and watched them with crossed arms. “There are still some issues we should discuss,” he pointed out. 

“Right now?” sighed Tali.

Shepard groaned. “Okay. We should be honest, we should be aware that we’re very different, we should consider the consequences. _Later._ Sleep, for now. Aren’t you coming?”

Garrus shrugged and joined them, stretching out where there was room. It was a good thing it was a big bed, he thought, curling one arm around both Tali and Shepard. Soon all three dropped into peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is currently the last chapter in this story. I haven't ruled out returning to it at some point, but I have yet to work out how this particular group of characters deals with the end of ME2 and the ME3 plotline.
> 
> I have some additional one-shots, mostly fairly smutty, featuring these characters, which I'll be posting as part 3 of the series.


End file.
